Pedigree

I suppose, if I were leashed and forced to climb inside one of the pigeon holes that humans are so very fond of, I would say that I am a modern day Hemmingway (minus the drinking, of course, because the canine liver is, as you know, so fragile). I say this because I liked the dog character in "The Hanging" and am always looking for the next metaphorical bull fight, as you can probably discern by my Harley Davison jacket and bandana. Living, to me, is leaning into one of the banked curves of highway 125 at 110 MPH. My heart beats in time with the engine revolutions as my nose drinks in the scents of hay, livestock, adrenalin, and gasoline.

At first glance, I appear to be a pedigreed, snobbish mammal, complete with champion bloodlines and foreign ancestry (c. 300AD Milan). But, I am, as the mother of two, content to patrol the yard's perimeter for imagined enemies and, when the opportunity arises, race the sunset to Bull Shoals Lake on the back of a Harley. Occasionally, but not often, a cardinal will sneak past my defenses and successfully pilfer a few sunflower seeds from the birdfeeder, but other than that, life is calm.

I apologize, after hearing my owner spout off about what she has learned through the demos and reading, I sat down to browse Breakthroughs; but, exhausted from watching her mow the lawn, my eyelids betrayed me and closed like like wooden verticle blinds (a glance at the attached picture will confirm my efforts to investigate the hub-bub). For humans, I suppose, teaching the important skills, like how to catch a rabbit without tripping over your own feet, is overshadowed by literacy. Although I must admit, I liked the article about poetry and may have to give the genre a try, and I have, already, caught my rabbit for the day... hmmm... What rhymes with squirrel?