My cute little girl
Jul. 26th, 2006 08:12 pmI'd been naughty. I'd succumbed to the call of the net and spent the last few hours reading and writing to people through it. Normally I feed Mali about 5pm, but it was now about half past 7. She walked up to me and pushed against my leg to get my attention.
Suddenly realising the time, I apologised to her and told her I'd get dinner for her soon. She waited.
Minutes passed. Becoming a little impatient she pushed my leg with her paw to remind me.
Oh crap! I'd been seduced by the net again. I apologised some more, stood, and closed my connection. Walking out to the kitchen I threw words over my shoulder, telling her how good she was and that I was sorry dinner was so late. Cutting the food up on the bench I smiled to her. She'd followed me out to the kitchen and was smiling a big doggy smile, watching me get her food ready. I love that little dog. "What a good girl you are, my cute little Mali dog. You are such a sweetie!"
Her smile paused for a moment as she delivered a loud burp.
Suddenly realising the time, I apologised to her and told her I'd get dinner for her soon. She waited.
Minutes passed. Becoming a little impatient she pushed my leg with her paw to remind me.
Oh crap! I'd been seduced by the net again. I apologised some more, stood, and closed my connection. Walking out to the kitchen I threw words over my shoulder, telling her how good she was and that I was sorry dinner was so late. Cutting the food up on the bench I smiled to her. She'd followed me out to the kitchen and was smiling a big doggy smile, watching me get her food ready. I love that little dog. "What a good girl you are, my cute little Mali dog. You are such a sweetie!"
Her smile paused for a moment as she delivered a loud burp.
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Date: 2006-07-29 12:09 am (UTC)Oh yes. My cute little Mali is a real class act.
Years ago, my girlfriend (back then) and I had a bunch of dogs, most of them big dogs, but one was a very dainty little toy poodle -- smaller than a cat. She was incredibly smart -- one of the most intelligent dogs I've known. She would often trot into the room, pretty and sophisticated, looking like she should be wearing a tiara, then she'd ruin the effect by belching loudly. It was so incongruous it never ceased to be funny.
She'd sometimes go and roll in the slimy, putrid, rotting remains of a dead frog or bird or some cow manure, then come back in showing off her new, special fragrance. She'd always look mortified when Julie or I would insist on washing it off her.