OK, that does
it. Mother stuffed me in her oversized handbag again and took me to the
movies last night. We went to the Burns Court Cinema. They’re
the artsy-fartsy film spot around Sarasota, so maybe we didn’t look that eccentric
in this kind of crowd. Since the theater shows a lot of foreign films too, we could always have said that we were French if we got caught. After all, dogs are allowed everywhere in Paris, so how would we know it was different here?
Still, Mother is really taking my breed name, toy poodle, a little too
seriously. While my petite size encourages her to treat me like a
child's favorite stuffed animal, in fact, I have abs of steel. When she
considers me her project or play thing, it disregards the buff physique I've
developed playing Fetch in beautiful Urfer Park two blocks away from us on Bee
Ridge Road.
If word gets out that she drags me around like a baby doll, I’ll be the
laughing-stock among the neighborhood dogs. For now, they think I spend
my spare time catching frisbees on the beach or in one of our dog parks.
I tell them how I love to go with my human family on long, demanding treks in
Myakka Park or power-walks around Sarasota Bayfront Park by Marina Jacks.
While admittedly we do all of these things, I still get secretly schlepped
along on Mother's “educational” outings. She says they’re good for me.
Just recently, I had to sit through “Forever Tango” at the Van Wezel (ok, it
was very impressive) and soon she has plans to sneak me into the Rubens print
show at the Ringling Museum.
"Dash Has Had Quite Enough"
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