Shoes, Sh*t, and some other things

With a new outlet for my random thoughts, (this blog), I've found my mind noticing things during the day and storing them for exposition here.

This nifty organizational exercise of the brain is in direct conflict with the less-than-disciplined body that is supposed to sit down and spit them out into the glowing box.

Which leaves me with multiple things to write about by the time I actually sit down to write.

For funsies, rather than listing them, I've put in a the effort to find a common theme.

So rather than shoes and sh*t, (herein spelled as shit, sorry young-uns) I'm going to write about the girls in my life.

Following the seniority of these thoughts, and having NOTHING to do with ranking of any other sort, I'm going to start with Dido, my poodle-chow bitch.

Most of you know Dido, either as a lovable fuzz ball with high energy levels and an aggressive tongue, or as the spoiled disobedient jealous bitch that will pee on your bed if you pay attention to any other female of any species.

Less of you may know about her goose shit fetish. Anywhere, anyhow, she can sniff out that rank green mess and smear it down her neck and shoulders.

While living in Annapolis we used to make it over to the beach at Quiet Waters park almost every day, and almost every day the car ride home was a noxious trial of driving stick with one hand and keeping her at bay with the other.

On a cross country drive, she would find it at rest stops. Living in DC she could sniff out the tiniest scrap, likely dropped from 100 meters up, and work it down to the skin.

Why do I mention this now, this quirk of my dear dog? Because since our move to Mississippi, something has changed. She's moved on. She's discovered pig shit.

The other bitch in my life, Shadow, has a different approach to stinky leavings of other animals. She ingests them, for short periods of time.

Alexe and I took both of these pooches on a walk not 2 miles from our rented house in Oxford. Thacker Mountain is the highest local point and has a live weekly music/talent radio show named in its honor. The town converted the old railroad tracks at the base of this mountain (term used veeery loosely here) to a wonderful, if very straight, walk through the woods.

It was here that Dido discovered the pig poo. And it was here that Shadow found her dead possibly third hand something, and swallowed it whole, not sharing her find until she could get home and deposit it, accompanying the wretched smell with an equally gut-constricting sound track, next to the umbrellas at the foot of the stairs. The size of a small rabbit, though liquified enough to be recognizeable only as some sort of rodent.

And since I'm running out of steam, I'll wrap up quickly.

My darling wife, the lady of my dreams, and the most important girl of the three mentioned here, received her new pair of sneakers in the mail yesterday.

That makes 21 pairs of shoes. That I could count in the closet last night. But come to think of it, I didn't see her ll-bean boots. 22.

My common theme?

My girls are nuts.