weekly derby - 17 weeks

Last night’s Thursday “photo shoot” did not go well. I could not make a good picture of Derby for anything. I think my puppy must have Sundowner’s. There are nights when, after a certain hour, he turns into a Tasmanian devil. He wanted to bite the camera, jump of the chair, lie down, show me the top of his head, show me his butt, try to jump off the chair via the arm of it, whined, cried, and moaned. Finally I said, “Fine! If you don’t want your picture taken then I am not going to waste my time. If you want a stupid picture this week it’s your loss. You’ll have a dumb picture on the internet tomorrow for the entire world to see and all the other cocker spaniels will laugh at you. And I’ll lock you in the closet. And the Great American Hero will take you to prom. And John Travolta and Amy Irving will be there and pig’s blood will spill and the step-mom from Eight is Enough will be there, but not even she will be able to help you. They’re all going to laugh at you.” And he jumped off the chair, levitated his ropey chewy thing, and said, “Oh well.”