I have been presented with a stick.
Yes. A stick.
What a wonderful present.
The antelope of joy is frolicking through my soul singing disco tunes.
It’s a stick.
Perhaps once, through sheer boredom, I did show interest in a stick but clearly this has been misinterpreted.
I had been hanging around before puppy class (Her, over eager, forcing us to be 30 minutes early as usual and talking to the instructor with a ‘please love me’ grin on Her face than would embarrass a Labrador) with nothing for me to do but listen to the drone of Her voice and plan just how bad I could make Her look by peeing on the instructor’s shoes. When, eventually, I got so comatose with the dullness of the situation I was actually dribbling, I decided enough was enough and picked up a stick with the intention of jabbing her in shins with it and shutting her up.
She saw me pick up the stick, was delighted I was doing something so wonderfully and obviously ‘doggy’ and has forever more had a soft-focused dreamy look in Her eye every time we walk past a twig (although to be fair She looks like that most of the time.)
Hence the present of the stick.
I am now wondering how I can communicate to her that something you picked up from the dirt at the side of the Hammersmith underpass is not a suitable present and that actually the A/W 2013 tartan Barbour puppy coat would have been more appropriate. Perhaps a sharp jab to the shin every time we pass a puppy wearing the coat, or tripping her up outside Bishops Bark where they have them on sale. For that I would need something about a foot long and pointy at one end…
Oh my.
A stick.
What a wonderful present!