Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Tremendous Tuesday

When Milton's tennis ball rolls under a dresser, which tends to happen quite frequently, he emits high-pitched whines and mournful yelps until someone, anyone comes to his rescue.  The loss of a tennis ball, a tragedy for Milt, is an utter and complete catastrophe that requires immediate attention as signaled by lots and lots of noise.  Conversely, Milt winds himself up like a fly stuck in a sticky web on our front porch, and we don't hear a single peep.

Momma's poor baby

When Jeff saw this photo, his very first question was, "Heidi, how long did Milton stay like that until you freed him?"  "Well, gee, Jeff, I don't know...  He never once asked for my help!"  Our goldendoodle has figured out the important things in life, and loss of a tennis ball is a far greater concern, worthy of a string of alarmed yelps, rather than tied-up paws turning blue from circulation, which you can just calmly wait out until someone takes notice.  I wish my own life concerns were as crystal-clear and clean-cut as all this.

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