First mama was ‘a cuttin’, and now I am ‘a struttin… (damn this humidity)
When it is warm, I always prefer that we pay a visit to at least one of my parks. Today’s lucky winner was Rittenhouse Square park.
I am pleased that mama left my furnishings basically intact. As dad always said, I don’t really have great “disco pants”, so whatever I have, I need to look as manly as possible.
Stopping to smell the – well, not roses, but pretty flowers that have been pooped in – along the way.
And of course, to collect some sticks. No reason to limit myself to one when my mighty jaws will easily hold two.
 But it’s a workout on a day like this. Water and rests are required.
 Especially if mama thinks that she can steal one of my fine sticks.
 Notice how bit the harness is on my now? It’s like I’ve lost inches, I tell you, since the hairecut.
Inches, but not cuteness. I’ve still got that.
And it always amazes me that mama thinks that she can somehow be faster than me or stronger than me to get a stick out of my mouth.
 AIN’T GONNA HAPPEN
 Do I really have to bust out the Airedale Death Spiral? How badly do you want to get dizzy, mama?
And really, tell me you could take the stick out of the mouth attached to THIS face…
 Go on, I DOUBLE DOG DARE YA
Exactly. Not gonna happen.
You still really should let go of that stick mama. About now, to be precise.
Ok, you asked for it… AIREDALE DEATH SPIRAL…
Love,
Bogart
