I'm closing in on the halfway mark. And I still have more than half a month. Woohoo!
WARNING--DOG STORY FOLLOWS This has nothing to do with writing, but it does provide me with comic relief.
So we're dog sitting my daughter's dogs Max and Matisse. Max is a kindly gent and never causes a problem, unless you drop his lease when you take him for a walk. If that happens and he figures it out, he runs like hell.
Matisse on the other hand is like a boomerang, but it's because he's a big chicken. Tuesday the power company was working on a transformer somewhere in the neighborhood. The lights flickered just long enough for the carbon monoxide detector to go off. It emits a horrible squeal, but it goes out quickly. Well, it squealed and chicken dog about wet himself. Now this dog is over 70 pounds and he's trembling like a big sissy cat. Just about the time we got him calmed down, the power goes off again. Yep, now he's frantic.
I decided to unplug the detector and in the process it went off again. By now he's about to have kittens (and by the way, Max is sacked out on his bed sawing logs.) Matisse raced to the garage door and wanted out. So we let him in the garage. He stayed out there for twenty minutes, and we couldn't coax him back in--not even with a treat.
I felt sorry for him because it was cold, so I opened the van door and he hopped in and curled up on the back seat. He stayed there for an hour before we could get him back inside. When he came in, he kept walking around the table staring at the wall socket where the detector had been plugged in.
Needless to say, the carbon monoxide detector is staying unplugged until he goes home.
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