This is Toby.
It’s likely, should dogs ever acquire certain human qualities, that this young fellow will be President of These Here United States.
You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but he’s awfully smart. His girlfriend (he’s surprisingly monogamous, considering his evident good looks) is Ruby, whose breed I’m not sure of tho she resembles a dingo.
She’s well-trained and seems to find Toby just charming. As do I, and often find myself plying him with pig’s ears and the occasional bull’s penis. For what, I’m not sure, since his affection is probably unconditional.
On a lighter note, I’ve got a date on Monday. R. is quite short, she tells me, at 4′10”. On the face of it, this is cute, but it’s also the recipe for a potentially short night. She’ll be zonked after a shot and half.
We’ll see.
Anyway, I’ve got 20 pages or so left in the last Potter, then it’s back to William James.
Goodnight you princes of Maine, you kings of New England.
On a lighter note, I’ve got a date on Monday. R. is quite short, she tells me, at 4′10”.
R. = Ruby? Who has a date, you or the dog?
“She tells me” … aha. A blind date. My sympathies are with you, doughyp. I hope she is well trained and finds you charming. Who makes dates on a Monday?
PS. This is Chester.