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The inner workings of the mind of Malcolm, distinguished canine.
Thursday, October 23, 2003
Log 004:
I am in need of a bath. I am curious as to when the next one might happen. Lisa seems distracted of late; by things such as watching movies, reading some large tome with a boy wizard's likeness on the cover (it looks positively ridiculous) and, I shudder to say, walking Callie in the dead of night. My general hygiene is taking a backseat to her folly, and I am very displeased.
Would that I could enter the bathroom, shut the door and draw a warm bath. I would prefer an unscented soap, as I am a firm believer in the concept of retaining one's masculinity by not allowing oneself to be doused in fruited perfumes, especially for smaller canines like myself. I would thoroughly wash and then clip my nails and dry off in a civilized manner. After my bath, I would drain the tub and apply a soap-residue removing spray to prevent mildew. But, alas, the good Lord chose to put me on this earth without thumbs, so I cannot take care of myself. I must wait on Lisa's leisure.
I simply do not see the appeal of walking that drooling oaf around the neighborhood. I have accompanied them on several walks, and I am able to keep Callie in check with my civilized, slower gait and induce her to slow her pace and exhaustive breathing patterns. I am proud to say I am training her well. However, the humans in the household undermine my work when they take her out alone. Callie--short for Calliope, I am told-- seems to enjoy pushing the limits of their endurance. She seems to derive great pleasure from straining on her collar and leash, causing Tom and Lisa to pitch forward and walk in very undignified manners to bring her from yard to yard, where she will indescriminately urinate with nary a confimation sniff. Why Lisa would chose to take this friendly simpleton out for a final walk at night, alone, is beyond my understanding. For I sit calmly and patiently and implore her with my eyes to please bestow attention on me. I do not demand the base forms of "play" that Callie does (she carries that outrageous stuffed 'hedgehog' toy about in her overly wet mouth and squeaks it for her own amusement and I have to walk away to keep from laughing in her line of vision), and I am cleaner and drier in general. I know she prefers my company, yet the Large Red One behaves like an overfed toddler on caffeine. So yes, in some ways, I can see why I need to be patient and wait. Until that one learns some manners and humility, we all have to make concessions.
I have thoroughly enjoyed this time of sharing.
--Malcolm
I am in need of a bath. I am curious as to when the next one might happen. Lisa seems distracted of late; by things such as watching movies, reading some large tome with a boy wizard's likeness on the cover (it looks positively ridiculous) and, I shudder to say, walking Callie in the dead of night. My general hygiene is taking a backseat to her folly, and I am very displeased.
Would that I could enter the bathroom, shut the door and draw a warm bath. I would prefer an unscented soap, as I am a firm believer in the concept of retaining one's masculinity by not allowing oneself to be doused in fruited perfumes, especially for smaller canines like myself. I would thoroughly wash and then clip my nails and dry off in a civilized manner. After my bath, I would drain the tub and apply a soap-residue removing spray to prevent mildew. But, alas, the good Lord chose to put me on this earth without thumbs, so I cannot take care of myself. I must wait on Lisa's leisure.
I simply do not see the appeal of walking that drooling oaf around the neighborhood. I have accompanied them on several walks, and I am able to keep Callie in check with my civilized, slower gait and induce her to slow her pace and exhaustive breathing patterns. I am proud to say I am training her well. However, the humans in the household undermine my work when they take her out alone. Callie--short for Calliope, I am told-- seems to enjoy pushing the limits of their endurance. She seems to derive great pleasure from straining on her collar and leash, causing Tom and Lisa to pitch forward and walk in very undignified manners to bring her from yard to yard, where she will indescriminately urinate with nary a confimation sniff. Why Lisa would chose to take this friendly simpleton out for a final walk at night, alone, is beyond my understanding. For I sit calmly and patiently and implore her with my eyes to please bestow attention on me. I do not demand the base forms of "play" that Callie does (she carries that outrageous stuffed 'hedgehog' toy about in her overly wet mouth and squeaks it for her own amusement and I have to walk away to keep from laughing in her line of vision), and I am cleaner and drier in general. I know she prefers my company, yet the Large Red One behaves like an overfed toddler on caffeine. So yes, in some ways, I can see why I need to be patient and wait. Until that one learns some manners and humility, we all have to make concessions.
I have thoroughly enjoyed this time of sharing.
--Malcolm
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