Perception Of Time

Every time I blink it’s Monday again.

Why does my sweet girl dog, with the fluffy tail, like to roll in stinky, disgusting stuff–every time my back is turned?

This morning the side of her face was encrusted with something most foul.  A clouds of gnats followed close by.

I chased her down.  She knew what was coming–a good scrubbing.  She laid down in a flower bed.  It didn’t make any difference.  The flowers got watered in the process.

A cry for attention?  …Disguising her scent?

There were better ways to get my attention.

Wasn’t this the third time in a week?

 

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Author: warturoadam77p

65 year old married retired communications worker with three grown children, transplanted from the Midwest to the sunny Gulf Coast.

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