I never spill a drop

So cold out there today that we really bundled up, me and Daisy, but it’s no picnic getting her coat on let me tell you. She gets all dramatic. First she goes all flat on the floor, Gumby-style, like she’s got no bones and she looks all tragic because doom has set in and I can’t make her stand up because she goes all floppy so I have to go into the kitchen and noisily rummage while I get her a little treat so she sort of edges in, tragically but interested, and I put the coat over her head like a turtleneck and she gets all damn, you outsmarted me again and I get all looks like I outsmarted you again, huh, Daisy? but I give her a little treat because she gets this look, you know, like she’s being violated and she starts acting like her coat is made of lead or something like it’s such a burden and when I do the buckle thingy up under her tummy I know she’s dying because it’s her big tickle spot but she remains stoic.

And then she won’t fucking budge

The only things that move are her big brown eyeballs in her bigger white parts so she looks like she needs you to adopt her. And then to confirm her I-am-mistreated look I end up pulling her along the floor by her leash, which sounds mean but there is an option, until the stairs when she pretty much has to save herself and off we go but she does not forgive me or like me very much and she lets me know this all the way up the street where it’s very windy and I mention, in a niceish way, aren’t you glad you’re in your coat now? but she totally ignores me, looks the other way, shoulders slumped, eyes rolling I’m pretty sure.

Even when we get to the forest where it’s sheltered in great long stretches and nice and comfortable and beautiful and I let her off the leash she is still resentful. Goes the other way. What a drama queen.

She eventually gets over it and does her best to act normal, as do I

She is the perfect dog for me because she avoids other dogs in the same way I avoid other people and this is not a 6-foot pandemic avoidance it’s much more of a wider berth thing or girth or whateverthefuckitis.

The trail over there has become pretty popular but Daisy and I have our avoidance thing down to an art. We can sense the approach, divine the direction, and in a magical realism sort of way, a nice little criss-cross appears and off we go onto another path, whistling in perfect sync, missing the intruders in the nicest possible way so they don’t even know they were ditched. It’s like we’re in a Wes Anderson film or something if you know what I mean.

Cinematic precision, baby

So the cartooning thing. It’s going pretty good. I’ve managed to make five a week since I started. Think I’m on number seventeen now and will get to 20 by Friday and then keep going I guess unless macrame rears its naughty head again.

Not sure what I’ll end up doing with the cartoons but it’s fun and weird and here’s another:

And that responsible drinking lie (that was supposed to be line but I’ll let spellcheck have his way the little shit) I opened up with is like the opposite of what I’m doing which is a cleanse. First one I’ve ever done because I don’t think benders qualify.