Death March

Well, I guess that little expedition I just returned from is some people's idea of a good time, although I don't see how anyone in their right mind would call the last hour of my life anything other than a death march.

Let's start at the beginning. "Let's go on a walk," Those People say, their big white human teeth gleaming with glee. I should have suspected their sinister motives right then and there, but I was too caught up in the anticipation of getting out of this stagnant cube of boredom commonly referred to as an apartment. All I wanted was a glimpse of "life out there." Is that so much to ask? What I got was a death march through the swamps of the netherworld.

So, everything is all fine and dandy for most of this so-called walk. Of course, my mouth was parched from thirst, and my nerves were raw from the constant onslaught of threats to my sanity. There were the usual threats, such as jet trails, kids with backpacks on, and other dogs.

You are not going to believe me when I tell you what happened next. Those People make me walk right next to these insane sprinklers. The grass was sopping wet! My feet got wet, and water splashed up on my fur, and it reminded me of rain. I hate rain! And Those People know it. Why do they think I "go" in the house when it's raining? Because I hate the rain! I guess I can say this much in their defense: they eventually let me walk out in the street. I used every inch of my 16 ft. leash to get as far away from those sprinklers as I could get. I was clear over the center line, but it wasn't far enough away for my taste.

What's the point of sprinklers, anyway? I don't see the point, and I hate things that have no point, because they're pointless. Anyway, take a look at these two pictures which are basically the same thing, and you'll know what I mean when I tell you that Those People dragged me on a death march.

Hmmm, now which picture is hurricane landfall, and which picture is sprinklers? If you can't tell the difference, it's because they're pretty much the same thing.

Possible Conspiracy

There's been an increase in helicopter flight patterns in various regions lately. I can't give you any more details than that, because it's probably above your pay grade, even if you're in the mix. If you're a civilian, just continue living your innocent little life; don't go chasing waterfalls.

This is all I can tell you that I know for sure: A certain yours truly may not be 100% Schipperke. And don't think that helicopters weren't involved. Apparently, there may be a little truth to the recent rumor that recombinant geneticists messed with my DNA when I was just a puppy. I think I remember certain details. I do remember being in a big black helicopter, and I'm pretty sure I remember the scientists conspiring with the helicopter pilots to MESS WITH MY DNA!!!

And now, when Those People tease me about looking like a bat, and a seal, and a cobra, they don't know how close to the truth they are. I'm pretty sure those geneticists spliced bat, seal, and cobra DNA into my own, and that's why I look the way I do. But don't take my word for it. The pictures speak for themselves. You be the judge.

Violations cited on 5/6/09

Violation 1

Time: 11:26 a.m.

Place: Parking Lot

Personal Note: I've always hated that golf cart that the maintenance crew drives around in. Even though it is technically "on the ground", it always seemed like it was violating some code. At the very least, it just plain bugged me. So I always barked at it quite a bit. Imagine my chagrin this morning when I saw that they had tied a bunch of balloons to it! It was insanity.

Violation 2

Magpies in various locals during the duration of various walks within the limits of, but not limited to, the city limits of the city I'm limited to. Not all birds violate the CSI Act of 2004, but magpies definitely do. Magpies, and also any and all hawks that land on the railing of my back porch definitely do violate both the intent and the literal translation of the CSI, and they will be cited and barked at to the full extent of the law.

HOPE

President George Washington had 36 dogs when he lived at the White House. He's not the only President to have more than one dog, either. Of course the President of the United States of America can have as many pets as he or she wants. That really makes sense. I don't know why I didn't think of that before. I guess I still have a chance to live in the White House with Pres. Obama. I'm so happy I could dance a jig. All I need to do is increase my vigilant monitoring of even the slightest violation of the Clear Skies Initiative, and it's a sure bet.