Too Few Dogs

   Had a chat with an old mate, the other night. He mentioned he'd checked in here, to see if I still had a pulse. He'd seen how I've lost le Ding and Evil Little Dog.

 

  Well, the fact that he mentioned this place sort of reminded me I haven't posted much lately. Then, I just let the Dogs out for what'll be their last 'Break' for the night.

 

  And, as it so often does now; As three little hairy bodies rush past me out the door? I, almost unconsciously look for more.

 

  I'm more of a five Dog man. I like a proper little pack around me. Three just doesn't cut it.

  Nothing for it though. I've decided on my plan of action, for the future. 

 

  Balzac, the 'new' Dinger is an empty headed skin full of shit who's only ever known life with me and the Small Dogs.

 

  They, in turn, have now come to trust me implicitly. Balzac. My compound. Me. That's their little universe now. Anyone, any thing beyond that is scary to them.

 

  And so it's now my sworn duty to simply out live them. I think I might have mentioned this before? 

 

  I'm no great fan of the idea of dying, frankly. But, what Really torments me is the thought of these Dogs being left behind.

 

 To be dragged away by strangers. Terrified and confused. Fuck, no!

 

  So, I have to outlive them. Then, I'll become the patron saint of old, little, fucked up Dogs.

 

 I'll try to hoover up as many doomed, unwanted little terriers and such as the pounds death rows have available.

 

  I'll let them sleep in a warm room. With full bellies. They'll get to end their days looked after. Not stuck with a needle on a cold, stainless steel table.

 

  And, I'm sure, some will get unlucky. They'll outlive me and find themselves back in the cold, concrete blocks of the Leitrim " No Kill Shelter ".

 

  Till the van comes, to ferry them across the county line to the Very Kill place they have an arrangement with.

 

  Sad. But, I'll be fucking dead. Not a lot even I can do from That position then.

 

  Oh, and why aren't I starting now? Simple. Balzac, for all his size, is a gentle giant. The little Dogs can run rings around him and he just accepts it.

 

  But, those little dynamos are fucking murder! Forever chasing, leaping on and biting Balzac. He 's fine with that.

 

  But, a strange, new, little old Dog that just wants some peace and quiet?! Hell, no! They'd be begging for that van!

 

  I'd hope I have about another decade in my yet. Hope to see these three out in that time.

 

  Shit goes south for me, before then? I ain't fucking leaving these behind. Not if I can help it.