Refurbishing

May I please issue my protest here and now?

Ya see, me and 'Drew were all set to go to the beach today when someone (whose name I won't mention for fear of not being fed something other than dog food) decided it was time for a bath and grooming cuz we gotta go to a show in some Dog-forsaken hot, out of the way place tomorrow.

Well, that may have sat well with poor Andrew (the youth just doesn't know the fine art of protest yet), but I was having none of it. Just look at the poor boy, all wet from the hose, all soaped up, then an hour of drying under the furnace like apparatus. (He's even seeing double!)

"Not for me" I said. "Been there, done that".

So as you can see, I made my way to the beach, had a whole lotta fun and then Dad tracked me down, leashed me and put me through the same cruel and unusual punishment that is refurbishing.

I mean, really, if I want to get wet I'll just saunter my way into the . . . . . uh, uh, I was going to say "water" but, well, I suppose I could say it although it wouldn't really be true. But just what is the truth? Truly, what is that which is and is not truthful, and who is to make that decision? Uh, can't I just follow in the steps of those who advise the President and have a failure of recollection???
"Uh, yes Senator, I understand the question but currently I have no present recollection although I may have had a past recollection that I cannot now recall."

"Hoist upon my own petard", says Dad. I don't even like the sound of that!

In ending, any and all (but not necessarily) inconsistent statements aside, please send your letters of protest to this blog. Phleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze! (Even your best recollection would be appreciated.)

Satchie