Well, I am ready for Pretty to get here. That girl Sandy at the beauty parlor called Slow today and I heard her say, “Do you want him to be cut like a Welsh terrier?” No, I want him to be cut like an orangutan! What in the hell kind of question was that? Of course, she wants me to be cut like a Welsh terrier. I AM a Welsh terrier, for God’s sake! I mean, don’t you have to take some kind of CLASS for this grooming business? Aren’t they supposed to KNOW what I am? On second thought, some days I’m not quite sure who I am. Of course, that’s so metaphysical, and I really can’t think about that right now.
All I know is that I’m waiting for Pretty to get here, and that girl Sandy made me look mighty fine so I’m sure Pretty will ooh and aah and give me lots of pets tonight. Sandy told Slow that I was such a good dog, too. Clearly, she doesn’t know me that well. But, she gave me this fabulous handkerchief that has Halloween candy corn on it and goes very nicely with my black and tan coat. What Sandy lacks in substance she makes up for in style. I like her.
Slow is pacing about and texting Pretty to see if she’s still coming today. That Slow. Sometimes I feel sorry for her with all her stirring around. As if anyone cares. But, the old girl has spruced up and looks as good as she can, given all the circumstances. So, we’ve both done our best to get ready. I’m assuming I’ll go to the airport to meet Pretty, although I haven’t been formally invited. I can tell you this. If that old woman doesn’t take me, she’d better leave me in the laundry room so whatever I piss on for spite won’t matter that much to her. I always win in the end. Heh, heh.