I hung out with my brother Sam and my grandfather who was visiting.
They discussed computers, which to tell the truth I find deadly boring, although I feigned interest.
For a conversation to keep my attention, there should be a lot of "Lambie"s sprinkled into it. I'd say the proper ratio would be about 25 "Lambie"s per minute of conversation.
This guy Pepe or Paco always arrives at the bluffs in a carriage. His owner pushes the stroller up to the curb, and then Pepe/Paco steps out like a pasha.
We get along fine but I secretly look down on the way he is pampered and infantilized by his owner.
I would never put up with that.
After his day at school and his track meet, Charlie fell asleep on the sofa without getting his essay done.
Looking at his computer, I wondered if perhaps I should write his essay for him, like the elves who helped out the shoemaker. Unfortunately, that would be a violation of his school's honor code.
So instead I concentrated, silently yet intensely, on transmitting to Charlie via the ether my reserves of strength, brilliance, and analytical acuity, so that he would awaken feeling inspired and refreshed.
My brothers might strike you as tough.
But they're putty in my paws.
My grandpa's been visiting.
I took him out for a walk on the bluffs.
Later on, we sat together in companionable silence while he read his newspaper and I chewed on my bone.
Now and then I question my decisions.
Have I made a mistake focusing on squirrels as my life's work?
At such times, my family is a great source of unjudgmental support.
