11 posts tagged “snow”

I snapped this photograph a couple of hours ago. You are so busted, canine unit, for dozing off beneath the tree while on duty as head of ranch security.

I should take a lesson from the canine unit when life becomes a bit stressful. Simply play dead. If I'm lucky, those who deem it necessary to make my life a bit mental will merely sniff me and then wander off.

 

I was walking along the trails yesterday evening and caught a glimpse of two elusive phantoms. I must have startled her and her ghostly canine because she stood and gazed at me for what seemed forever, although I’m sure it was mere seconds, and then they wafted away like a wisp of vapor. Ok, so not really, but it would have been cool, yes?

I’ve decided that should I die in some tragic sort of way, that I shall haunt the canal. Just like those artists and writers who were virtually ignored while living, I’ll be notorious in death. The woman with the white dog. I smell an urban legend unfolding.

Ten-year-old boys will pitch pup tents along the trails and hold flashlights beneath their chins, spinning yarns of me while eating s’mores and craning their ears for that faint tinkle tinkle tinkle of vaccination tags from a ghost dog’s collar.

Ten-year-old girls will spray-paint their dogs white and dress up in spectacles and black converse sneakers for the annual Halloween celebration & bonfire that’s held at the canal.

Teenagers doing the dirty on the canal bridge will be interrupted by a ghostly scream (kinda like that one at the beginning of the Scooby-Doo cartoon) and my ghost drop-kicking a trash barrel in their general location. Damn kids never pick up their condom wrappers. Please, think of our environment.

Good times.

 

   

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room.  "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse.  "It's a thing that happens to you.  When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 

Excerpt from: The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams