so i'm bent over my alarm clock too early one morning--it's on the floor--groggy, butt-naked, cursing and furiously poking at the snooze button, which is stuck and will not stop beeping. absorbed in my task, i don't hear sasha--no doubt drawn away from her water bowl by all the commotion--walk up behind me.
presented with this fine opportunity, she can hardly be blamed for what happens next, right?
and when that cold, wet nose makes contact with my unsuspecting, virgin (to this, anyway) asshole, i react with a shrieking leap about as far into the air as is possible when one is half-asleep and starting from a head-between-the-knees position, finishing with a one-and-a-half with a full gainer into the wall (level of difficulty: 9.2--try it sometime), landing in an upside-down heap on top of said alarm clock, which at least finally succeeds in shutting the damn thing up.
i miss you , sash.
2 comments:
I am not sure what caused all of this sentimentality today, but I must say that Sasha was a gentle and good dog.
As someone who bonded with the beast, I can pretty much vouch for her good temperment and character. Her owner (or 'pet guardian' as they are now called), well, he was considerably more moody.
noblesavage: yes, he was--thank god that's no longer a problem.
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