It's two o'clock and I haven't heard from the "Little Explorers" program, so I'm assuming my little hooligan is having fun and not causing any disturbances. Yesterday we planted a bunch of stuff in the yard. The highlight had to be when Snowflake, in all of his naked glory squatted behind his castle and took a shit. I flew inside the gate as fast as humanly possible, but it was too late. The Shit Eater had gobbled the majority of the turd so I didn't have to.
Fvck(thanks, Gem). It was reminiscent of that scene in that film where the dog goes running off with the human hand, but it wasn't a hand, it was a turd! SF's TURD!). It was one of the gaggiest shit experiences I've had. They knew I steaming mad like Yosemite Sam. I told SF that only animals shit outside(yeah, I said poop, not SHIT). He went running into the house and when I came in, he was angelically dumping on the pot. He got the point.
After my hellacious moment and the planting was done, I made myself an incredibly delicious and strong margarita. We went up to the neighbor's where I drank and SF swam in their pool. When I dropped him off this morning I was a little numb, I didn't cry.
That's Life.
