for example,
the reality of olive the dog flipping her F*ing sh!t about being left inside
whilst we got so freakin' fresh and loud as hard we could outside.
i'm talking about masterstrokes of stroke-type barking, and shaking,
and back-and-forth racing to each and every portal to the woodsly goodness
facing our faces out the front of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
my dog has mental health problems, neighbors.
those include an inability to accept distance at proximity.
she could see us, right there, existing independently,
but she couldn't be with us,
and that short-circuited her already hazy, haywired, thickheaded numb skull.
yeah.
you don't have to say it.
i know it too-
oh, okay, fine;
they DO say dogs and their owners resemble each other over time, don't they?
great.
so reality didn't care that we were playing pretend at all.
and i mean, at all, at all...
occasionally, really really real life intrudes, duders.
have you ever been so upset about missing out that you could practically crap yourself?
that's a thing.
dogs do that too, only they take it to eleven.
uh-huh.
what's better than playing woodsly warrior in the yard with some buddies?
check the answer-style teleport:
tactical-type paramilitary militia dog turd-heap poople-scoopling!
expert!
sooooo glad we were documenting our big action.
right.
embarrassing?
totally.
aromatic?
that would be describing it as mildly as possible.
i guess we've got to watch out for minefields on the homefront, friends.
there's nothing like making your feelings known,
once all the barking in the world has gotten no results.
*
it can't all be awesome all the time, y'know?
that's the fundamental exchange rate of the secret universal interactive planagram.
everything costs something.
and if the fee for a day of dopeness was a wafting mound of soft warm sh!t?
...so be it.
i was prepared to pay, and what's more?
yeah.
it was worth it;
never quiet, never soft.....
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