My dad is always saying that I’m going to be his “fowl dog” – you know, that someday I’m going to follow him, headfirst into an icy lake, and retrieve the ducks that he shoots.   Like a good, traditional Airedale.

Well I must be more of a vegetarian mama’s boy than any of us are willing to admit… today mom and I went for a walk around the Echo Park lake to see the ducks, and lets just say that my reaction would make my brave ancestors roll their eyes and give me a big “Harumph!”…



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One thought on “Fowl Dog”

  1. Ducky or duck poops (presume that’s what was keeping you so mesmerised?)! Oh Bogie, I would not be able to resist chasing them. I nearly tried to catch a swan once until dad told me a) It could probably kill me faster than I could kill him and b) ALL swans in England technically belong to the queen and “technically” to kill one is treason so I could be locked in the Tower of London, eek!

    Oscar x

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