It’s going to be a long night.
NOAA says thunderstorms on and off until morning. Sparky has been stressed for a few hours, and I’ve used up all my thunderstorm relaxation tricks.
Author: Richard Nestoff (Page 1 of 139)
We have another severe thunderstorm warning until 8:30 pm. Sparky is grinning like the creepy Joker, trembling and panting like he is in labor.
He took a shit when we went out after the last storm, so he won’t be delivering a little bundle of joy. That’s a blessing.
I haven’t mopped the basement floor yet. Since Rusty liked going down there, that would be productive. Sparky can’t see or hear as much down there.
The weather was so nice today, by late afternoon, Sparky and I went out to lie on the deck to enjoy the spring breeze.
I am a sucker for futurism. My X/Twitter feed occasionally gets short movie clips with no context. Of course I am going to look into this futuristic utopia depicted in this Russian movie from 2022.
‘No Kings’ rallies are always scheduled early in the day, so everyone can get home in time to watch Matlock.
Nobody knows what these dotards are trying to say. I wish his highness, the exalted Trump, would call out the pikeman to drive these peasants back to Cracker Barrel or the senior center.
I have laundry baskets, but they are holding plastic balls from the snack pit as the foam rubber continues to air dry. Besides, this is about the most adorable sight to wake up to.
I pulled everything out of the dining room, Murphy’s Oil soaped the floor, and took the rug out to the deck to scrub. I rinsed it with the power washer, then hung it on the cable run to dry. By late afternoon, it was starting to rain a little, so I brought it in.
By early evening, the rain had turned into a thunderstorm. Storms make Sparky anxious, so I gave him the last chunk of pig ear to distract him. While I was making dinner, my cute, but thankless pup brought the greasy pig ear into the dining room to eat on the clean rug.
Everything is back to normal.
Most of the day, Sparky didn’t know what was going on. Rusty wasn’t here, but we also weren’t having fun. It was worse than that. All of his favorite stuff was gone, so he spent the day in dreadful contemplation.
This morning, I took Rusty to the Cleveland APL. It’s off of West 14th, so I told him we were going to Tremont. Dogs like the sound of that.
Rusty is a great catch. He is three years old, has no nuts and good teeth. That’s the golden triad of appealing dog attributes.