Going to the Dawgs
Lets' go, let's go, let's go! The Hemingson Gang. My boys, er, dawgs, live to visit Uncle Tom's farm.
Just had the boys checked out by the Vet and she was suitably impressed with Cactus Jack and Panhandle Slim's condition and demeanor. The Vet even thought that little ole' Cactus was a good breeding bet.
Cactus is unusually sweet-tempered for a Chihuahua and Slim, well, we're still not to sure what Slim is... Supposedly Chihuahua and a genetic experiment gone terribly awry. He bounces like a kangaroo, chews like a beaver, digs like a mole, eats dirt - no, REALLY - and has a cock-eyed perspective on the world all his own. Slim marches to a drum-beat that no one else hears... Me, I suspect a little rat bastard terrier, er, I mean Rat Terrier!
A studly young Cactus Jack Hemingson.
My tail moves so fast it's a blur, Panhandle Slim Hemingson.
Who's my Daddy?
If you can figure out a plausible parentage for this little mixed-heritage speedball, I'll send you a free Vanishing Tattoo DVD, http://www.vanishingtattoo.com
Hello, is there anybody home? Does Slimski suspect that he is about to get snipped? Yikes!
The tragic tail, er, tale of what happens when a middle-age man has no children. How can this really be any worse - nay, SAD - than becoming the dreaded cat lady of urban myth?
posted by Vince Hemingson at 8:58 AM
2 Comments:
Wow, i'm not alone! I'm not the only one who takes pictures of my pet and speaks of them like they are my children. People tend to think i'm a bit off my rocker when they say,"let me see a picture of your child" and i pull out a picture of my cat and gush about how beaautiful she is. Ahhhh, the life of a childless woman. And the myth of the dreaded cat lady....let's just say it's not a myth.
Nice looking dogs, Vince.
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