It was so hot on Thursday that I saw a tiny chihuahua (as opposed to those giant chihuahuas we usually have running all willy-nilly through Hillmomba) laying in the shade. Not that chihuahuas of any size are expected to be immune to the heat. This little fella had his usual yard rope stretched from the porch column across the lawn. I think his family puts him out on the rope when they go to work in the morning. He doesn't have a house, and the yard isn't worn bare. I think he's really a house dog, but must misbehave when alone, and they don't have the heart to put him in a crate during the day. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking, projecting my ideas concerning chihuahua care onto others. But here's the point I was trying to make about that tiny chihuahua laying in the shade:
THE SHADE WAS FROM A TELEPHONE POLE!
Yes. Only a chihuahua could find cool sanctuary in a strip of nine-inch-wide shade. I don't even think I could have cooled my brow in such a shadow. If the power goes off here at the Mansion, and I feel trapped in my basement lair like a hermit crab buried in the campfire coals inside his squatter's shell, I shall need to seek shelter out of doors, in the shade.
I wonder how long it would take one of those dump trucks to get here from the Mesabi Iron Range in Minnesota.
2 comments:
HM--I hope you ARE right. I hope the end of the hot weather is over. I'm tired of rivulets of sweat running down my back at work (during recess duty, which is something you don't have to do).
'Cause I don't look attractive with rivers of liquid running down me, unlike that car-washin' gal in "Cool Hand Luke."
Sioux,
Not even a bucket of liquid, like that Flashdance welder gal? You probably just look like you got your head caught in the faculty restroom sink.
Maybe a fireman will drive by the playground and notice, and stop to see if you need assistance.
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