Birds, Bees and Blondes
I'm not making a blonde joke. My dog is blonde. This post is about him.Descendant of wolves.
Beast among men.
Afraid to leave the house to pee.
Because of the bees.
They're not nice bees. It's true. They're mean little fuckers.
And they built a nest inside a hole in our chimney. I think it used to belong to the bats.
A random bee gets into the house every few days from nowhere.
Both the dog and I have been stung. Inside the house. The buzzing is coming from...inside the house.
And outside. Outside they hang out like teenage bullies in the front bushes. Even the ten year old throws a sweatshirt over her head and runs screaming up the front steps to get to the door.
We've sprayed. They've stayed.
To top it off, it's turkey season.
We actually love the turkeys. Well, the humans love the turkeys. They are funny as hell to watch. They are everywhere in town, causing traffic jams and doing whatever the fuck they want. Badass.
Sooo badass that when we opened the door this morning and a parade of them strutted across the front lawn, the dog was like, NO. No, no, no, no, no. Not gonna do it. It took 30 minutes and a 10 year wing woman to get him out the door -- the side door -- to relieve himself. In full attack mode, with the hair on his back at full, Rhodesian Ridgeback, alert.
He's not a small dog. But he's not a terribly brave dog either.
Unless you're the milkman. Or the mailman. Or the FedEx guy. Or the Del's truck driver who has tried, on numerous occasions, to come out of his truck to play with him.
Then he is ferocious.
Sorta.
He's so pretty.
