“Why, no. No problem at all, Mrs.. McGillicutty, you know how I adore looking after Froo-Froo. Yes, Ma’am, most men would consider it offputting to have to tote around a lap dog, rest assured I am secure in my masculinity …”
Society has all manner of non-complimentary names for it, but I like to think of it more as a form of regular opportunistic collecting …
Little Meat being key to that hobby, given his domain contains the Thanksgiving Tree, where 20-30 turkeys roost each evening, so close as to make a thrown tire iron a legitimate harvesting tool.
The downside being his bargaining skills and obsession with fast food, given that all evidence of the misdeed must be consumed or buried before his owner’s return … and yes, brushing his teeth is growing tiresome …
Good boy.
…ya gotta love heelers,not quite as psycho as Jack Russels,just bigger….
Oh behalf of my client…
Given the published evidence of the demand by hippie chicks for natural materials, Mr. Little Meat demands that future feather bartering will require nothing less than Kobe beef burgers on seeded whole wheat with all organic condiments.
Brush his teeth all you want, we will soon enough see the evidence left in greasy piles on the lawn.
KB, Whatever you smoke while composing these little missives, I want me some of that!!!