|Zooming right toward my dirt pile after my bath.|
As for my bite wound, thanks for asking. It's healing nicely and my hair is growing back.
For once, I don't push my luck and insist on going to SmartPak. We struggle through the sidewalk weeds and rubble along Rte. 9 past the CVS construction site. Mom and Dad wish for the umpteenth time that Wellesley would have the new CVS, the Dunkin' Donuts, the Volvo place and Jarvis put in some sort of walking path behind their businesses so that we don't have to worry about getting run over.
We safely trot over to the town beach, where I check out the dock and threaten to jump off. Just kidding! Then, while Mom is chatting with some former students, I find this awesome smelly patch and roll madly. Really madly. Hysterically madly. I'm so covered in this great odor that it challenges the car exhaust on the way home.
Click. That's the gate, and I'm trapped within the confines of my yard. Mom's got the shampoo out (really, lavender?) and the warm water ready, so I play like I'm a horse and just get through it. When she realizes she forgot my towel, I see my opportunity and take off, heading straight toward my dirt pile where I romp it up. I'm pretending to dig for chipmunks, but I'm just throwing dirt around for the fun of it. I race around maniacally, then pop open the door and continue my hijinks inside.
Let me tell you, if I wasn't in the doghouse before, I am now. Worth it? Oh, yeah.