Happy Frank, Happy Dog, Silly Joke

Sometimes life is just so dopey.

 I wrenched my back this week, but did I do it painting
kitchen baseboards or carrying stacks of dishes or moving
tables or cooking endless pots of food?

No, I did it . . . turning.  Just standing in a room, and turning.

I think I'd feel better about this if there were

good reason for it, but this is just plain dopey.

So not much posting this week; sitting at the computer is not very comfy.

I'm trying to be good and give the muscles a rest.

But Dion reminded me today that he had not yet had a chance to wrap up his

Happy Frank's Giving Day story . . . so here it is.

Mr. Dion DiPoochy has the floor.

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 Hello.  Dion here.

And now I know that I have been a very good dog, because last week,

on Happy Frank's Giving Day, Happy Frank left presents for me!

I got a new toy, and a pack of chew sticks tied up in a girlie ribbon,

but we'll forgive the girlie ribbon because I like the chew sticks.

 See?

All mine!

I mean, I really would have liked to get this:

but I understand that Happy Frank doesn't give us everything we want.

But then, I got to thinking.

(This is my thinking face.)

If I get presents from Happy Frank for being good, and Happy Frank ain't coming back for a year,

I don't have to be good until next year.

Score!

Usually if my human servants say I am bad, it's because I have managed to break through their

defenses and eaten something they selfishly keep for themselves.

But when I was a puppy, I remember there were some other things I liked to do. . . .

When Mom got up this morning, she found this:

But I don't understand why she called "Dion!" right away.

It's not as if she saw me.

It could have been someone else.

She tracked it back . . .

 

What? What?

You talkin' to me?

 I'm sorry.  But I've been so good, I just had to be a little bit bad.

Meanwhile, remember . . . after you have stolen next year's Halloween candy,

be careful and be good till the end of November.  You don't want Happy Frank to pass you by!

Your friend, Dion DiPoochy

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And it's all true.  Well, except maybe where Dion got his presents.  Don't tell him,

but Aunt Phyllis brought the chew sticks and his little friends Aine and Eoin brought the toy.

Meanwhile, I'm feeling silly.

And I hope you are, too!

Oops!  I should have written "...we don't serve any Turkey after Thanksgiving...."  Oh well.

Tomorrow we're going out to the beach house.  Howard, B-I-L Bill and my brother Lindy are putting the ice eater under the dock; a sure sign of impending winter.  I think we'll do some shopping in Greenport, and then on Sunday, I would like to head to a Christmas tree farm in Pennsylvania to chop down a tree.  Or two.  Or three.

Howard says next weekend would be better for tree cutting; we'll see who wins.
I'm betting on him, actually.  He has the axe!

What are your weekend plans?  I hope they're good ones!  -- Cass

PS... no link parties today -- I wasn't sure anyone would want to be
associated with such a naughty little dog as Dion!