Friday, June 11, 2004


The market is closed today in honor of Reagan. I didn't even bother going into work. Sarah has my cell, she puts my calls through when she deems them necessary.

Last night on the way home I drove past the firehouse and saw a black & white dog walking across the lawn. I slowed down and watched him wandering by into the neighbor's lawn. He was three houses from a very busy intersection and a main thruway. I hit my hazards and got out to check his collar. No tags. Just perfect. I spun him around, turning his ass away from the traffic and sent him on his way. By the time I got back in my car he was dead center in the middle of the road, trucking it to the intersection with Kevorkian determination to end it all.

I have no pets. I like it that way. Nobody to feel guilty about because I'm a pig and don't have time to have time. Or something like that. But I damn well couldn't let the little bastard commit suicide that way. "Dammit! Get your ass over here!" He stopped, looked over his shoulder, straddling the yellow stripe, and blinked. He's a little thing with a lot of hair. When he blinks half a head of hair moves with the motion.


My agenda for the day consisted of washing/waxing my car, studying the Buy list my firm put out for stocks, and playing golf with a friend. Instead, I spent it cutting the burrs out of Dog's ass and face hair, bathing the stinky son of a bitch, dropping $40 at Petsmart for the supplies to do it all with, and right now I'm getting the toe-licking of a life time. And how much money have I made today?


Squat doesn't pay the mortgage. Squat doesn't pay my car note. Actually, "Squat" doesn't appear to do anything but lick his nuts and give me the googly eyes. Even after a bath he stinks to high heaven. I de-flea'ed him like the 17 year old at Petsmart told me to do and gave him a milk bone for his breath. So far, it hasn't helped.

I need to make some FOUND! signs to post around the 'hood or this little bastard might never leave. Why is he staring at me like that?