Working For Food Dog
She's already 17 weeks old and they only live like 13-14 years so there's barely another 13-14 years minus 17 weeks of these photos headed your way. Toughest part's deciding on a cover image.
What a poser.
One little point and click and then it's two and then next thing you know it's three, four, another 20 more and, before you know it, a hundred cover images.
Those are woke poses. Not woke like them, woke like the opposite of slept.
I have a bunch of slept poses too. She's a puppy, they do that a lot. And eat. And play. And chew on things. Sleep, play, eat, eat, sleep, chew, poop, poop. Lots of poop.
Five produce bags like you get at the market completely full of poop—mid day haul. Another five'ish bags will be collected before tomorrow.
Then I put them in a 13 gallon bag inside a five gallon bucket with a lid on it and leave it out back on the deck. I was throwing them in the garbage out in the garage, daily, but Pura has a sensitive sniffer and didn't appreciate the ripe smell of dog shit every time she went to the car.
Five gallon bucket, full by the end of the week. Every week. One US gallon (3.785 liters) weighs a little over eight pounds and it's full on trash night so I'm hauling out between 40 and 50 pounds of poop every Wednesday in case you're wondering.
What day trash day is, of course.
I'm as surprised as you are we talked about poop that long. I had no idea we'd be doing that today.
It's immutable, though, so, there's that. A decentralized community to talk dog shit is just one of many Hive perks like NFT's. Online games which isn't my thing at all is another one, they're pretty popular. As is blogging, something I've never done before. You can earn crypto here, too, or travel around the world in a day and stop by a couple meet-ups to learn which virtual strangers scare the shit outta you in real life.
Or how I can take all these images from my phone, save them on the blockchain next to a story like we're reading together for the first time now and then delete them from my phone—tada!
Welcome back, space.
She's been mistaken for a couple things already, I love it, one of the reasons I went so far to get her. When they see us I don't want them to be all "oh, how cute, can I pet her, what's her name?" I want them to be like WTH IS IT!
Her, not me.
One dude called her a Dingo but, again, we're in North Carolina so he didn't just call her a Dingo.
Ya'all gotsa Dingo o'er yonder?
Love it.
I leaned toward her and whispered so he couldn't hear me.
He thinks you're a Dingo.
She's still learning English. Either she didn't understand what I said or maybe dude offended her cuz she didn't say anything.
She's a German Shepherd.
L. I. B. At'ders a workin dog??
That's how they categorize German Shepherds in dog world—Working Dog. I saw an opportunity to crack a joke.
Working for food dog.
He didn't get it. No fake lol or anything and instead stared me down like someone who doesn't speak ya'alls and yonder's on a backwoods, muddy trail in white Chucks with a trippy looking dog on a hot pink leash.
Another dude called her a hyena. He was on the other side of the road so he spoke up a little bit to make sure I heard him.
Gotsairpodnaattahyena?
Which translates to 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛? 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚢𝚎𝚗𝚊?
Love it.
Negative.
Without any hesitation, he fired back something I never really considered prepping myself to answer and wasn't sure now's the time.
Y'raisin coyotes?
He lowered his voice that time. And he didn't say coyote that rhymes with roadie, either, he said coyote that rhymes with boat—coyOAT.
Y'raisin coyotes?
In an octave slightly higher than a whisper while discriminately gesturing toward Atlas as though I'm steps away from a coyote underworld.
Is that even a thing—raising coyotes? He said it like it's a thing. I guess they're good hunters, sharp little creatures. Still a weird question. All I've ever heard about them is they're a nuisance; kill chickens and house pets and stuff.
German Shepherd.
Hrm. Working Dawg! Wellya'gotsersef a fine lookin Working Dawg.
Opportunity, again. Maybe he's more receptive. Maybe not. Maybe I should just say thanks and keep on keepin on...
Working for food dog.
Much more receptive. Or at least faked it good. He smiled, nodded his camouflage and fluorescent orange Nascar hat toward me and let out an acknowledgment laugh like someone who just listened to someone go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on about their dog. = }
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