See the picture up there? That's me, Tuxedo. I am the star, the absolute light of this place, and who does she write about? The DOG.
I mean, really.
The DOG was here first, but he was just the stand-in, until the true maestro came to the fore. You want to know what the walk up the hill is like?
Mom. Hmph. Try "My Lady Love". That dog has NO poetry whatsoever. Pardon, I digress. The hill.
My Lady Love lets the DOG out, whereupon he nearly wets himself, and slobbers uncontrollably, trying to, I suppose see how much liquid he can secrete before she recoils in sheer revulsion. But, my lady love seems to be made of fairly stern stuff, as she gets him directed (some how) to finally relieve himself, and we head out. I, of course, demure to her speed, why run, when you can enjoy the delightful company of another of your class and bearing?
The DOG runs through the gate, and fortune smiles on my lady love, she isn't knocked over by the blasting hurricane that is the DOG. I wait until she goes through, then walk carefully by, making sure to give her a reassuring rub, letting her know that I wouldn't dare try to knock her over.
We walk. The DOG sniffs at every conceivable thing. Grass, offal, trees, a mouse. Well, I suppose he has some sense. I do enjoy some side sport, and a snack while travelling is a delight. But, the DOG has to have some silly idea of digging. Covering his defecation? No. He is just digging! And he throws tremendous clods, it should be his namesake! Perhaps this wasn't the best choice to walk with that uncouth DOG.
Ah. My lady love is headed back home. Well, that is-
ANOSEUPMYARSE?!! I WILL HAVE REVENGE!! Feel the sharpness of my blades, you savage!
This is my cue to perhaps encourage my lady love to hurry herself down the hill. After all, she is beauty incarnate, why must she do this silly walking?
My lady love, could we hurry? The DOG seems to be in a mood to try running, and I fear I don't seem to be able to keep from underfoot. I detest becoming entangled with that DOG.
AHEM. Could we PLEASE hurry. I do not care for this sport.
Well done. The bottom of the hill, now open the- what? You are going up again?
NO. Bother to the both of you. I desist. I cry foul. Nothing will make me walk up that hill with that DOG again.
Pray, what? A rabbit? And it's running up the hill. Hmm. Perhaps my lady love could use an escort again. Just this once...