Wednesday, June 29, 2011

I'm a Runner, Not a Writer

   I'm 13 months old now. Daddy says I weigh 85 pounds. What does that mean? He also says I'm a good boy. I know what that means. It means milk bones are on the way. Of course I must do my trick sequence which includes sit, shake hand, other hand, kiss, and lay down. I do these tricks when I am asked, and enjoy doing them. I can tell by the way Mom and Dad move their hands which one to do. They really don't have to say the words.
   I know it's been a while since I've posted, and for good reason. I have lots of running to do. I caught a turkey in the yard. He was yummy except for the feathers. They are really fun to play with, though. I felt bad about it later because I didn't really want to hurt him. I just wanted to play. The turkey didn't see it that way. Looking back, I really don't know why I caught him. When I saw him I just got a strong feeling that that what what I needed to do. I wanted to take it to Dad, but we ate it before he got home from work. I did, however take a mouth full of feathers to his truck as a welcome home present. I always take my parents something when they drive up. Sometimes all I can find is a stick or a pine cone but they don't seem to mind. They like me no matter what I bring. I don't think Dad was real happy about me hurting the turkey, which is why I have no pics. He said I could have got into trouble with the game warden because the turkey was out of season. I don't know where season is,but I reckon the turkey should have stayed there and he'd have been safe. And I don't know the game warden either. 

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