25 July 2010

harley be gorgeous


[click image — that's really him! Hollywood Harley....]

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Harley is socially acceptable. He smells like a GIRL. He looks like a movie star. He's waaaaay fatter and fluffier than the one in the video, and he's more full-throated about his hot desire to run out and roll in something dead, but the sound is something akin to the picture around here today. He was THE most unspeakable wreck before I took terrier liberation upon myself this morning. Just saying the word "bath" sends Harley off cowering in the ferns for whole days at a time. Not this time. He'd plugged himself with a poopy butt... despicable wreck... and almost leapt into the tub on command. He has been exulting in his renewed huggability all morning. He not only LET me brush him, he goddam rolled over to help me get the tough spots. I know this will be COMPLETELY unbelievable to Peggy and Jim when they get home in an hour or two, but, struth, dudes, I ain't lyin'.

Anyone around here referring to the dog from hell is immediately understood to be speaking of Harley. He is almost what you would call utterly obedient—and practically mellow—around me. No shit.

I do SO rock.

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I guess I should try to turn this into a Zen lesson... eh? The secret of Harley's hellish ways is that his pecker is smaller than a guppy's. It had a burr all snarled up on its hairy and barely-perceptible casing that—notwithstanding its added manliness factor—seriously had to go.

He doesn't want to wait to show off his new-found star quality. He wants to go chase phantom mountain lions that fly. Burrow into the silty schmutzy duff that's still just damp enough to cling agreeably. He wants to make a hash of this glowing terriertude. Yes. Yes, the little bastard does... but... he's stickin' with me on the deck and in the house... waiting his chance to go wreck everything, like a good little monster. He's gotten an extra greenie for all his patient grumbling.

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Oh, and, note well that gloriously clean backside... its inviting fluffiness... its pristine aspect. And it's working really, really well. Happy, happy terrierist....

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And PLEASANT. Did I mention pleasant? OMG, OMG. Pleasant.

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4 comments:

  1. Ha! He MOST certainly IS! Well... not at THIS moment. Right now he's Douglas Fairbanks Jr. But when Peggy and Jim arrive, ALL will be lost. Guaranteed. I'm thinking of calling the neighbor to come WITNESS this before it's history.

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  2. Well... I'm thinkin' more like Orson Welles or Charles Laughton... more to the rotund end of Hollywood....

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  3. Holy Roller Novocaine

    Could'a left out the fluff at the end...

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