My evening walks have grown later and later. The sun is bright and hot at 4:15, the time I used to tear myself away from my dark basement lair to exit the Mansion and hit the driveway. For the last two nights, I went out around 7:30. This makes my schedule (heh, heh, my daily RETIREMENT schedule) all cattywompus.
If I walk at 7:30, that means Farmer H gets his supper around 7:00. He's okay with that. And I have time to clean up the dishes before walking. Last week, he was okay with eating at 8:00. His own fault, because he took off on the Gator and came back leading HOS and HOS's wife and son on our 4-wheeler like he was the grand marshal of a parade. That meant that I had to sit on the front porch pew and be sociable for a while, before going in to make supper.
All of this cattywompusness puts my own supper around 8:00. That makes my blogging run later. Surely you don't think I would get things ready BEFORE walking, do you? I barely get home from town by 2:00. And then there are all those conspiracy sites to read, and slot machine videos to watch, and...well...let's just say it's a terrific problem to have!
Anyhoo...last night, I was sitting on the porch pew separating the two furry snackers, when I noticed the giant mosquitoes buzzing around me. They've always found me to be especially appealing. But last night, I must have been super-desirable. They were also flitting around Juno's feet. I think I read that to discourage mosquitoes, you should wear white. Sucks to be Juno! I was wearing my black sweatpants, and black socks. Plus my hair is pretty close to black (shout-out to L'Oreal). Plus my breath must have been a real mosquito-magnet. Not because it stunk, silly. Because mosquitoes are drawn to the carbon dioxide, and I had plenty of it after walking.
I wanted to go right back inside the Mansion. Nobody wants itchy bites on their appendages during Casinopalooza 2. But I couldn't leave until the dogs were done with their evening snack. Jack and Juno are not good dining companions. I set Jack's plate to the left of my feet, and Juno's plate to the right. Juno always finishes first, and stands with her front feet between mine for petting. Actually, she starts like that, then sits down with her anus on my foot. Shoes or no.
The dogs were enjoying a delicious repast of grease bread, courtesy of Farmer H's spaghetti hamburger, and some expired Save A Lot tortilla chips. Juno is not a big fan of the tortilla chips. She eats them last, and sometimes leave a few on her plate for Jack to scavenge after she walks back to her house.
I patted Juno for a minute, and then told her, "I have to get back in the house. These mosquitoes are going to eat my alive!" She gave me a look that I'm pretty sure said, "Please don't go, I love you SO MUCH!" But still. I was not in the mood to be a meal.
I leaned over and said, "Jack, buddy, you're taking too long. Here. I'm gonna dump yours on the porch to finish up." Jack didn't object. I tilted his plate to slide five or six tortilla chips onto the boards.
JUNO DIVED AT THEM AND GRABBED TWO!
"JUNO! NO! You know better than that! That's JACK'S food! Now you stop it."
I'm pretty sure Juno heard that as, "JUNO! Wah wah wah...wah...wah wah."
She looked at me like, "What you gonna do about it?" Not even the sad, sad face of shame.
Thing is...Juno doesn't even LIKE tortilla chips.