Every Now & Then, The Dog feels it is time to show me what kind of Weimaraner stuff he is really made of.
So, seeing me hard at work on blogs & things, The Dog trots-off upstairs and pulls out of his dog-toy box his Special Bone. He then returns, plops on his downstairs bed and proceeds to work on his bone, while I sit typing at my desk beside him.
It is The Special Communion between Man AND Dog.
Unfortunately for The Dog, that bone then must come with us wherevere we are, wherever we go... whatever we are doing...
in the car...
on our w-a-l-k-s...
to the bar for a cappuccino...
or, on the rug in front of the TV upstairs.
Yes. To another person in Our Household, Weimaraner teeth cutting haphazardly into bone is not the most pleasant of accompaniments. This is especially true when The Short-person is watching a Lucchino Visconti film on mad ol' Ludwig. Then, the Special Bone is summarily separated from the Dog by said Viewer of the film. Have you ever heard a Weimaraner pester someone with incessant whinning? Pathetic. And, annoying too. So, Dog, Bone and myself go back downstairs to work and The Short-person is left to his Italo-germanic feel good film starring Helmut Berger. Gads.
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