Now that I have the attention of my millions of followers you know that isn’t really what I’m going to talk about. I hope. Much like Seinfeld this blogue is about absolutely nothing. Or everything. You pick. Often I’m having a brilliant thought but get sidetracked by other brilliant thoughts and the path goes haywire. Just a Boomlennial trying to stay relevant in a millenial world that doesn’t use a top sheet. They like big heavy duvets. Which I do too but only in a hotel where I know they are absolutely sparkling clean. They are they are they are. And now I’m haywire. Size matters. In dogs. I have/had a huge, mangy, dirty dog that was always on my last nerve. He smelled, was always salty, muddy, or rolled in something(s) that even I don’t want to talk about. He ate the crotch out of my underwear and swallowed. Just disgusting. In a last ditch effort to let him live indoors I got him completely shaved #royalty. And he’s a beauty! All of the sudden he’s small. And sweet smelling. And looks like the young puppy he is and not some big hullabaloo. Yes that is a word because autocorrect helped me out. I don’t know what it means but that was the old version of my pup. J’aime mon chien! And when you speak French everything just sounds classier. I am not a Chien person. There are those that give their beasts just too much space in their lives and that is not me. Small c. I’ve always had les chien but they were part of the mix of a family and didn’t get much play. Last in line. Even though I am now a family of one I still can’t seem to move him beyond (c)hien status. Which is probably good in the overall picture of not being a crazy Boomlennial. Le chat would be a whole different level of crazy but I have too much respect for leather furniture to do that again. Whew. Mon chien can remain indoors as long as he stays in the back row and doesn’t take too much energy from me. Don’t sweat the petty things and don’t pet the sweaty things. La Fin