I was born on Thanksgiving 1981, which means that, on occasion, my birthday once again falls on the day of turkey and family conflict (though I don't actually know of many families that have any more conflict than normal on the holiday; my parents and I generally have a good time on Thanksgiving). This year was an instance of this simultaneity. All to say that on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, the office bought a cake in recognition of my twenty-eighth year (I feel like it was mainly M. and J., but I fear that I am mistaken and could possibly offend by not including everyone). Anyways, it was nice, we all gathered around our office's sofas and ate cake together. It was good and rich cake. Thank you kindly.
C. and R. were going to be going out of town for Thanksgiving, and it worked out that my parents looked after Brutus while they were gone, thus got to stay in the 'hood. I came over on their first night with the puppy and we ordered a pizza, the exact same pizza C. and I often order when I'm at her place. It wasn't deja-vu, but it was the mix of an activity that is familiar (space, puppy, time of day, pizza) but with an entirely new set of characters. The pizza, from Luigi's, was still good but not as good as the one we ordered on, was it the World Series? I forget.
Brutus is getting to be a bigger puppy. He's got himself a little more dog to him. Here my father just won the game of Wii tennis he and Brutus were playing. Those are the arms of someone with triumph in their heart. It's like Rafael Nadal finally beating Federer for the first time on grass. Does that tennis analogy make any sense?
Brutus was annoyed with his loss and was fined for cursing at the umpire.
He then accused my mother of fixing the match. My mother staunchly denied any wrong-doing.
C. and R. were going to be going out of town for Thanksgiving, and it worked out that my parents looked after Brutus while they were gone, thus got to stay in the 'hood. I came over on their first night with the puppy and we ordered a pizza, the exact same pizza C. and I often order when I'm at her place. It wasn't deja-vu, but it was the mix of an activity that is familiar (space, puppy, time of day, pizza) but with an entirely new set of characters. The pizza, from Luigi's, was still good but not as good as the one we ordered on, was it the World Series? I forget.
Brutus is getting to be a bigger puppy. He's got himself a little more dog to him. Here my father just won the game of Wii tennis he and Brutus were playing. Those are the arms of someone with triumph in their heart. It's like Rafael Nadal finally beating Federer for the first time on grass. Does that tennis analogy make any sense?
Brutus was annoyed with his loss and was fined for cursing at the umpire. 
He then accused my mother of fixing the match. My mother staunchly denied any wrong-doing.
4 comments:
I don't know what flavor of dog Brutus is, but his furrowed brow is a hoot, especially in one so young. He could do the brow furrowing thing while the white tornado here does the super hilarious head tilt/ears forward paying attention thing, and they both could imagine a world with thumbs. Or at least one thumb each. Smart smart dogs can be the bane of one's existence, altho it is nice to not have to repeat endlessly the command, whatever it is, at which they furrow or tilt then sigh when responding to it the first time when asked dammit for the human, who alas actually has thumbs and can do miraculous things.
all this hair-talk from me and no belated happy birthday.
BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Brutus is one part lab, one part sharpei, with maybe general mutt in there as well.
his level of intelligence is unclear to me, but he can be sweet...and he can be devilish.
thank you kindly for the b-day wishes:)
lets see a picture of your new computer!
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