Celeste did a very doggish thing yesterday. O took her to the park to run, and she ran right into some really disgusting, stinky, scummy stuff that just thrilled the living daylights out of her. So she did what every self-respecting dog would do.
She rolled in it, from head to tail. I believe it is called "sidewalk paté" Today, she doesn't understand why she can't just up to kiss me, why she doesn't get invited to play, why she isn't welcomed onto my lap. Whenever she comes near, she gets the "talk to the hand, baby" gesture. How well she knows it. About every time she shed her coat, she gets to "talk to the hand."
Please, Celeste, don't come close. Especially not under the desk while I'm using the computer. The aroma of your perfume is overpowering and makes me gag. Especially not near the bed, where I might accidentally roll over and my nose might find the spot you rubbed on. Especially NOT IN MY CAR SEAT, so I don't have to wear your dog cologne to work.
Celeste, sweet Celeste, I promise that before I get my shower, you'll get yours. In the meantime...Talk to the hand, baby.