Inevitable Artefication

It occurs to me, in this strange moment, that one day the vernacular I have used and adopted will be horribly dated. That even the exchanges I have co-opted ironically will be a sign of age, of being out of touch.

It occurs to me that I will one day, glw, be the old timer saying the equivalent of "hepcat" and "groovy." And long before they will have cycled back around to being ironically and self consciously cool again.

Even now I use phrases and words in a silly homage to years only just two decades past. Language may end up being the ultimate life form, as it evolves and changes to suit the times, yet manages to convey the same required information.

This all occurs to me as I play the unlikely role of dog-whisperer and 12-year-old-boy-whisperer. Two things I don't possess, or intend to possess, any when in this lifetime. But two things I find myself somewhat regularly engaged with.

That's how you end up loving cats but coaxing dogs into a bedroom, trying to help foster that bond between boy and pooch. Even if the pooch is the size of a small pony and you could conceivably sleep comfortably on her bed. Seriously.

If you asked me, I would tell you that not for love nor money would I do such things: I refuse commitment.

But perhaps, in refusing commitment, I am able to provide services ad hoc and when other parties desperately need a break.

It's not a bad deal, and I think I might benefit the most from it.

But seriously, this dog is the size of an icelandic horse.

airedale terrier--rides for $5. jodhpurs included.