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By Honey Dog
Honey dog here again.
To all my canine friends, if you ever get a chance to go to your “Masters” High school reunion, do not do it!! Unless you are ready to laugh your dog’s rear plumb off. Every time a classmate comes around, he sucks it up, takes 20 pounds off him by holding it in (he thinks). Then his face turns red and he cannot talk just stands there and smiles. I bet his jaw was sore after the reunion going around holding that smile.
I did not know my master was doing so dang good! It is true
he has traveled the world; he was in coach miserable as heck, always
took the cheap ticket. Then he talks about the stock market, now, there
is a tearjerker, I saw him wiping tears out of his eyes with that forced
smile just a smiling. I did not hear him mention anything about that
wore-out pickup truck he makes me ride in. I did not hear him mention
anything about maybe going back to work.
What is he going to do, get him a pumping job, and make the
rounds on his “Little Rascal”? Yep! Canine friends if you can, just go
to a kennel instead. This is Honey Dog signing off.
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I almost whipped a Blue Heeler
It was 5:12 pm, in the fall of 08, We pulled into, Luckenbach again. When I say we, I am talking about me and my master. My name is Honey, I am a dog, my master is a, well, he is a walking, talking, duct tape, bailing wire sort of a man and he is a poet, yea! A poet, a beer-drinking poet. He talks, and talks, and talks.
The parking lot was full, several bad-looking dogs and their
masters and some bad-looking masters; I have to say, too. It is a rule
out here for dogs to be on leashes, but not for me, I must keep my
master on a leash, it was orders from headquarters, from the man,
Virgil. We were walking to the bar when a blue heeler ran past me,
unleashed. He barely missed me.
I went into action, with brute force I chased after the
hound. I pulled my master over when I hit the end of the rope. He fell
screaming something about his knees being ruined. The rope came out of
his shaking hand and I continued the chase.
But the blue heeler was too fast for me, in my younger days I
could have taken him, but the last few years with this master had
gotten me bad out of shape. I had become like him, fat and slow. So, I
gave up the chase, that was one lucky blue heeler. if I could have
caught that sorry, piece of dog meat I would have clobbered him.
I went back to my whimpering master, he was getting off the
ground muttering something like, “what happened”? Then he turned around
and started his chanting again to some innocent-looking tourist at a
table. Chanting for him is doing his poems, I have heard them so many
times I can recite them myself. So, folks that was the day that I almost
whipped a blue heeler.
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with Secretarial Assistant and Master Walt Perryman
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