After the tremendous success of yesterday’s post all about pooh, it’s clear we’re all craving more explicit poop talk. What? One person really liked it and the “Pooh on my hand” bit? It killed. Well I laughed anyway.
I have just one more thing to add to this log. Haha… Oh the potty humour. You gotta love it. Well, you do if you have young children. Parenting is just one endless fart joke.
This is our dog Roger channelling his inner Luke Perry. He’s mastered the “shmize,” don’t you think? He can really tell a story with those bulgy chihuahua eyes of his.
|Roger: part chihuahua, part terrier, part weenie
He may look tough, but he’s actually afraid of his own shadow. And fireworks. And vacuums. And toenail clippers. And cats. Especially the cheeky cat who lives in the house behind us.
I’ve witnessed this brazen kitty chasing poor Roger in circles around our yard. Totally humiliating.
Yesterday I looked outside just in time to catch Roger doing his doggy business while his feline nemesis hung over the fence, squinting at him with her mocking cat eyes. How is a dog supposed to concentrate on the task at hand with such a hostile audience?
He sat frozen from fear (and possibly shame) for awhile, which gave me plenty of time to grab my camera. When I stopped laughing, I shooed that darn cat away. Carry on Roger. You may be a tremendous weenie, but we think you’re the cat’s meow.