This is probably my favorite season. Autumn is awesome all around – it’s cooler, none of that crappy humidity, and LEAVES
Oh, and sticks too.
Lots and lots of tasty sticks. Everywhere the eye can see. All over the park. Especially the big, manly ones.
Oh mama, don’t think you can try any funny business. This is MY stick.
Ya hear me, crazy woman? MY STICK
I will lift it in my mighty jaws and carry it across the park with pride.
Manly. Muscle-y. Drooly. OH YEAH
I really do enjoy a good stick. They’re all over the place these days, after our storms and all. But not all sticks are built the same, not all will make me look incredibly cool and roguishly handsome.
Oh other dogs may try – I see them grabbing sticks of their own, but no one can toss a log in the air with a jaunty head tilt the way an Airedale can. The way that I CAN
Go ahead. Try to look away. I DARE YOU. There is no way to get away from my cuteness, YOU ARE POWERLESS TO RESIST
It is important not to manhandle the stick, but to carry it in a way that suggests that hey, this is easy. Nothin’ to it. Giant stick? I CAN HANDLE IT
NOM NOM NOM
How potentially yummy you are, and how rugged and handsome I shall look running across the park with you in my gaping maw.
Oh how you twist to and fro, worthy adversary, making me jump with joy and to avoid the pointy parts.
Oh mighty stick, WE SHALL MEET AGAIN
Love,
Bogart
