this guy.

we sing in the car.

and sometimes,
just i sing, and he hates it.

awwwwwwww.
i am not a natural at vocal heroics,
and he is unafraid to remind me of that truth.
neighbors,
i still have this dirty dog,
even though he's SUCH a pain in the b-hole!
wow.
i mean,
yeah, sure, i love him and sh!t,
but that doesn't really mean all that much, does it?
not in my experience.
real talk.
however,
even without sleep,
and even with tiny gnaw marks on all my shoes,
and one hundred percent of the crackery wicker baskets
that collect the odds, ends, curious, and relics
within the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress all missing one corner apiece,
i keep this brutal little bullet-headed sharkagator around.
what can i say?
crabtree is a good little dude,
even though he's a bad little boy.
huh?
oh.
there's no contradiction...
he's both.
usually at the same time.
when he's sweet, he's saccharine hyperglycemic insulin-attack-level sweet,
and when he's being a pill,
he's the biggest, bitterest, hardest-to-swallow wallop of wild-hearted war and woe.
in other words,
he's exactly what you'd expect a worthy warrior poet to be out walking with.
and walk we do.
there're hikes on hikes to be trekked,
and woodsly goodnesses to explored,
and streams to sip from,
and so many outcroppings for us to urinate on.
yeah.
peeing is a big part of our time together.
he's old enough now to want to let the denizens of the mountain realm know that he's
tagged all the fresh spots with a quick squirt of liquified olfactory graffiti.
yup.
peepee dog walks, for hours, is what i'm into these days.
me and my dog are friends,
and my dog and i are foes.
that's my standard interaction set with everyone,
so i'm very happy he's on board,
and a ready and willing part of the team;
never quiet, never soft.....