Who's a Fat Bastard - Dog bombs and pee pools, see ya Mac

September 28, 2014

September Sunset at Spanish banks

     If it's good enough for God, it's good enough for me. I'm sure he's a Seahawks fan and we are on a bye week.  I guess some one at the BC Lions must have pissed him off! Maybe he's still miffed about that whole feeding Christians to the Lions thing. Still, football is football. My plan was to become vegetative matter in my giant green chair. Totally absorbed in sudden impacts and violent stops, with remote in hand and coffee at the ready I turned on the TV. I watch the pregame show on three different channels, you don't want to go commercial on me Bradshaw! I'll last channel button you in a heartbeat! It didn't work out quite as I planned, still it worked out pretty good.

     Willy called. Annie and him were back from vacation and where coming to get wee Mac. 

He will be missed but not forgotten. Our house is full of Mac hair and will be for months. He dropped a couple of dogs worth of hair in the last three weeks. Not to mention the dog bombs and pee pools. He is a great little dog, just puppy dumb.

Willy and Annie got to our house about 12:30 bearing gifts from Bonnie Scotland. 

I put him in the showcase, Lisa likes him better in the basement!

Regaling us with tales of  Referendum night at George Square and the north country at Abbeymore with Caroline and David. Willy couldn't care less about Football, at least not the kind that doesn't involve short pants. 

"It's beautiful out on the back deck, let's sit out there." Lisa suggested. Good bye NFL, Goodbye big green chair. Hello Willy. Everywhere they go they have amazing adventures. Both of them will just start talking to people. For no apparent reason. What people don't realise is half the time they're talking to themselves, Daft bastards! It also helps that We know a lot of the people they were meeting up with. His last days, his brother John threw a party for him in the grand Scottish Tradition. Insuring that he would be hung to the nuts for the seven hour flight to Nova Scotia. they brought us some lobster meat from Digby N.S. Can't wait! I'm going to try to get Lisa to make Lobster Bisque, I know she has a bag of Lobster stock in the freezer.

We had Octoberwurst on the back deck for lunch. It was 25 degrees and the saurkraut was sour, and the company wasn't. What more can you ask for? After lunch, they were gone and Mac with them. 

Note the pile of hair to the left.

Left behind, some gifts from their trip and a half a dog worth of hair....spread out of course.

     I was now about to resume my day of nothing when Lisa suggested we go to Spanish Banks dog park for the sunset. This is where being a conniving bastard comes back and bites you on the ass. I like sports. I like to watch sports on TV. Lisa doesn't. When we first got together I said If we are in the house and the TV on , one of them will be on the game. If you want to do something, golf, go for a walk or anything, I'm in! I don't want to sit and watch a different show with you when I could be watching football. It's worked well for us for thirteen years. If your definition of working well is me being banished to Tiny TV Town, where the players are two inches tall. However she figured out right away that Superbowl Sunday is not a good day to take Momma Lee to VanDusen Gardens. 

Strumming on a log on the bay

We love the place. Spanish Banks west. The dog beach. I usually take my beach guitar and strum to the rhythm of the waves. Last night was Bongo night or drum circle or something, so I had a whole rhythm section to play along with. 

Thirty minute drum solo's

I have to say, the songs they play are pretty long! 

    There was a weird fog laying across the mountains towards the Islands. The cruise ships leaving were like ghostly Wraiths slipping into the fog. Very Halloweenie.

Ghost ship full of the undead?

     The dogs don't care. They don't swim, they don't play, they are usually in Lisa's lap except when Elvis attacks any dog, anywhere near him, having fun! 

Elvis Cranky Pants Jr. and Nutmeg.

He's 12 years old and nobody's having fun while He's in charge. Of course he only attacks the big dogs. Idiot!

Another great sunset.

One Last Pic as we walked away.

Lisa's call time was 5:30 am, late for a Monday. We left the beach and were home by 7:30. Lisa made a sandwich and went to bed. I watched the end of the football game. Did a late shop at Stuper Store. ( Under construction and they moved everything!) It took me two years to remember where they put the Chicarrones! 

I weighed my self, because Sunday is Weigh Day. Not much change, up a pound but feeling great.

Then I went to bed.

That's all I got.

Till next time.

Peace Out Y'all

©2014 Dave Squatch Ward