January 21, 2006
The Flight of the Alter Ego
At the beach, I tread with vigilance and determination. I engage in the sort of heroic acrobatics at which my recumbent house dog alter ego would wince. I am faster than a speeding floppy disc, more powerful than a local mastiff, able to leap medium-height beach chairs in a single bound.
Afterwards, of course, I slip quietly back into my normal routine: that of a quiet, slightly sore, exceedingly ordinary Canis familiaris. There is safety in such alter egos. But I'm comforted to know that at some point Hank the Buff will be called upon again. Because every dog has its day.
What time will it be telecast, I will ask my human slave to record the show for me!
You have your day, and hope you have many many more too.
Thanks for sharing!
Studly? Moi? Tell your moms thanks a bunch!
Thanks! Of course, I don't post my misses.
Well, there was that one poodle in the bikini, but that was just weird.
Hi Ragus Pug's Mama,
Really? I guess there'll be no Panhandle living for me. That's uncivilized.
Hmm. Videos. Well, maybe. Stay tuned.
Thanks! Those are my best sides.
Yes, my mom was a very buff color, I hear. Can't remember myself. So buff has a couple of meaning for me. My story is that I turn blonder in the sun.
I dare say you're right. I'm a discaholic, though am not as much a fan of the hand plastic ones.