Father’s Day, sort of
I spent Father’s Day with my dad. Since I am devoid of children myself at the moment, I took my puppy along. (For those of you keeping notes, Ricki is almost two years old but she acts like a puppy. She’s [mostly] Aussie Cattle Dog, and according to anecdata I have, she will retain this behavior until about three weeks after she dies).
This is not a picture of her from yesterday, but it’s pretty much the face she makes. I’ve compiled this handy list. The four faces of Ricki:
- Happy (see above)
- Startled
- Holy Crap Look At Me Dad! Dad, Dad! I’m Poopin’!
- The Patented Aussie Cattle Dog Death Stare, which causes spontaneous human and bovine combustion
I’m endeavoring to capture each of these faces and make a handy guidebook in case you encounter a Ricki in the wild, but I fear that any attempt to capture in digital form the last (or should I say, final?) face would end the world. Or at least there would be an increase in conspicuously un-charred bits of legs next to piles of ashes in bookstores around the globe. Maybe I’ll save that release for Christmas.
