I love our dog, Farley. I love him dearly. When the police turn against you and accuse you of all kinds of ridiculous things, like kidnapping, animal cruelty, breaking and entering, petty theft, and a few other smaller crimes—it’s nice to know that when you go to the Puppy Palace Kennel to pick him up after it’s all over, Farley the dog is not mad at you. He may run at you so hard, you say, “OOOOF!” and it is like being hit with a fuzzy anvil that almost knocks you out. He may think a thought balloon with a heart completely filled with black at you. But he’s not mad. Farley seems to be the only one around me anymore that’s not mad at me. That’s the way animals are. I told Farley the reason he had to stay in the kennel was because I was on a camping trip (and not because of the police). I didn’t want to upset him and Farley is used to not going on camping trips with the family.
Farley the dog is loyal and true. If you are standing outside, watching your daughter play in the sprinkler, which your son is expressly forbidden to play in (you know all about little boys and how they get around sprinklers), Farley the dog stands by you on sprinkler guard duty. Farley is faithful and dependable. I went to the beach with Connie Poirier the other day, and I wish I had Farley the dog with me then. Normally John chases the girls in bikinis away and it’s always fun to watch him get slapped; but he wasn’t with us this time. For some reason all the girls in bikinis could do was stare at Michael and Lawrence making sand castles. I wish I had Farley the dog there to chase those girls away. They are a nuisance.
Michael starts Grade 1 this year and I, for one, am looking forward to the time alone. I might have time to read the newspaper (for the first time in 6 years) or make my famous sawdust burgers or bake cookies. I found me a bone-shaped cookie cutter at the dollar store recently, so I'll be making some puppy treats alongside the cookies. That’s the perfect treat for my best friend, Farley the dog.
Talk to you soon,