Sometimes on Saturday, after we put in a good couple of hours at our upstairs post, waiting to bark at the people and animals and leaves and plastic bags and toddlers in strollers that go by, we like to make sure that our mother knows we are doing our level best to keep the homestead safe by flashing her our I-Got-This-Covered look, knowing that if that 700 pound Rottweiler should happen to charge our fortress she will be there to help us.
Yours In Occasional Back-Up,
845. The galactic controversy regarding how many spaces to put after a period
846. Street racing
847. When newscasters describe 200 year old gigantic trees that come crashing down on houses like meteors as “toppling”
Here, the scrumptious frankfurter prepares to be sprinkled with fresh sage.
Sometimes on Saturday, after we’ve spent the entire afternoon binge watching Olive Kitteridge with our mother, we like to contemplate all the subjects our mother is always droning on about—such as loneliness and forgiveness and compassion and most of all that people do the best that they can in their own way—and we try to tell her that we understand where she’s coming from and we love her truly just the same.
We’re All In This Together Right?,
842. Video games
843. Dog owners that don’t pick up their dog’s poop
844. Why you never see the moths that eat your sweaters