Sometimes on Saturday, after a couple two or five or twelve run ins with that cunning bastard The Vacuum Cleaner---that gladiator beast who knows no mercy---after we've gone to the absolute outer limits of our own unbridled fear and charged that Mighty Devil of a rolling, hissing, lukewarm air blowing death tank on wheels, we usher ourselves into our cozy place and we allow the one in our tribe who possesses the courage to wrestle with that loud crazy killing machine that sucks up everything in its path to wrap us in our favorite cream colored blanket and we reflect on what it is to be a soldier and we know deep in our soul that if we were confronted with danger
every day in whatever form (rogue plastic bags, flies in the house, freakish pillows with minds of their own, mastodon buses out to get us) we would rise up again and again and throw ourselves in the fight gladly if it meant keeping our beloved pack mates from one moment of harm and it doesn't even matter to us if they realize this because
we know we can do it. We know we have what it takes.
Yours In Armorless Battle,
Brave Guy Beagle Mix
3 comments:
He's the cutest little battling, beagle-ish, burrito I've ever seen.
He could join our cats under the bed when that whirring, whining nasty thing comes out.
Burrito is a perfect word to describe him. The vet calls him Handsome Chicken and I love that nickname--she's the only one who uses it and I think that is fitting. Bruce: Cooper actually likes cats (not the musical) so he would probably like being under the bed with your terrified felines.
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