Sparky expects it to rain all day. He isn’t looking forward to low-level anxiety and a wet belly from going outside. I wanted to get a photo as he moped under the dining room table.
When Sparky saw me approach, he felt that his prospects might improve. He wanted me to know that I could rub his belly or play with Tweetie mouse if I wanted.
or inverted. Maybe it’s ironic, who knows?
The point is, the first time I took Sparky outside to do his dirty business, he pooped on a stump. Today, he got to shit under a stump. Sparky appreciates the strange twist.
When all of the Nutella is gone, I give the empty jar to Sparky.1 He has an impressively long tongue, but he can’t get to the bottom half of the jar. He puts a ball from the snack pit in there, and when it rolls out, it has some Nutella on it.
The yard was finally dry enough to get some work done outside. I asked Sparky if he wanted to help, but he said that today was a holiday for his people. He had the day off.
Okay, let I’ll bite. Why is today a holiday and who are your people?
Another thunderstorm is rolling through, this time with plenty of lightning. Sparky is on high alert. When I decided to use the bathroom, Sparky had to figure out how to maintain decorum while never being farther than a body length away.
His conversational gambit was awkward enough, I had to take a photo.
Sparky was tense about the rainstorm. I shot an ASMR video of Sparky weathering the storm.
Sparky had way too much going on today.
A thunderstorm just went through, as I was boiling a ham bone and Sparky got a new toy. Any one of those events would dominate his attention.
“I hear the pope. He’s underground, right here. Dig! Dig!”
I already explained this. The pope isn’t missing, they haven’t chosen a new pope yet.
“Get a shovel. Before he gets away.”
Do you know what the pope is?
“Sure, popes have a pointy head, digger hands and a weird mouth.”
Are you thinking of moles?
You aren’t allowed to search for the pope anymore.
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