Folks love to talk about the weather and Texas weather
gives them something to talk about. Twenty-nine degrees
in the morning and seventy-six degrees by 3 PM.
My dog noticed. He got sick. And since I kiss his little
face (not on the mouth no no no!) I must have caught
his sniffles. I lay in bed in the upstairs portion of my
barn apartment and listen to the wind howl around the
support beams outside and expect at any minute my
television and Internet will blitz out. Now downstairs
sipping coffee with an unhealthy amount of vanilla
creamer in it, I see through the curtainless kitchen
window the low grey sky. Ranch workers crank up the
tractor engines and the music begins. My dog rolls
out of his house and does his sleepy downward dog pose
followed by a couple coughs. Corgis are not stupid so if
I want to insert a syringe into his mouth and pump
antibiotics into him, he wants time to figure it all out.
No random drive by pumping. This guy wants to have a
presentation. Half way through this presentation I jam the
medicine in and he figures it out after the fact. That he
doesn't follow this act of violence upon him with a round of
harsh barks means it wasn't all that bad.