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At one of my many jobs today some dogs at the local shelter and/or adoption center got loose. One of which was a really pretty Grey Hound and the other? The poofiest of all poofy yip yip dogs... a Pomeranian. Anyway, they both are running down past the shop but the Grey Hound at a faster pace.
While the workers at the shelter go after the Grey Hound, in the meantime the Pomeranian comes strolling along at a leisurely pace just having a grand old time. Not seeing the big whoop with him being out at all. I'm watching all of this on the sidewalk along with my store neighbor, Mikey.
Mikey was the first between us to notice the strolling Pomeranian who acted like he owned the entire city of St. Louis he had so much cutesy attitude in his poofy body. The dog walks up to us and just sort of circles us and does his little yip yip deal until Mikey plays with him. Long story short? By the time the shelter workers returned with the recaptured Grey Hound, Mikey had fallen in love with the poofy yip yipping rascal and wanted to adopt him. Lucky for Mikey, he'd been at the shelter for awhile and they were happy to speed his adoption along.
When I left work I made him promise to call me when he decided on the name for the dog. He was contemplating having five names and letting customers vote but apparently he's changed his mind because a few minutes ago he called to inform me the dog's name is officially Ulysses S. Grant the Pomeranian General and it WILL be engraved on his new spiked leather collar. Yeesh, I love my friends but they are odd people. I can't help but giggle at that name though. It does rock.
I think mostly I feel that way because Mikey is this huge tattoo'd biker who DJs on the side and is pretty much the example of tough guy male machismo. Not that he's an asshole or full of himself like that would insinuate, no way. He's a great guy but he really is the last dude you'd think would want a poofy yip yip dog like a Pomeranian. So that's why I find it funny and cool.
On a personal note, I'm somewhat irritated with my writing lately. I know it's selfish but sometimes I just want some fucking feedback... lol. It's ridiculous. I know people read my fics because I have counters and I know my website. I'm not sure how many stories I've written but I can say I probably get a 2% feedback ratio for all of them put together.
A bit disheartening to say the least but nothing more than that because I'm quite aware I write for my own enjoyment, not for the response of readers. Still, I make no preconceptions of being someone who is above the need for honest feedback. That would make me a liar and I'm not too fond of those.
But on a happier note, I should hope, I start classes for my Paralegal Certification tomorrow. Whee! Perhaps I can discover the name of my hot Sanford Brown President? Here's praying!
While the workers at the shelter go after the Grey Hound, in the meantime the Pomeranian comes strolling along at a leisurely pace just having a grand old time. Not seeing the big whoop with him being out at all. I'm watching all of this on the sidewalk along with my store neighbor, Mikey.
Mikey was the first between us to notice the strolling Pomeranian who acted like he owned the entire city of St. Louis he had so much cutesy attitude in his poofy body. The dog walks up to us and just sort of circles us and does his little yip yip deal until Mikey plays with him. Long story short? By the time the shelter workers returned with the recaptured Grey Hound, Mikey had fallen in love with the poofy yip yipping rascal and wanted to adopt him. Lucky for Mikey, he'd been at the shelter for awhile and they were happy to speed his adoption along.
When I left work I made him promise to call me when he decided on the name for the dog. He was contemplating having five names and letting customers vote but apparently he's changed his mind because a few minutes ago he called to inform me the dog's name is officially Ulysses S. Grant the Pomeranian General and it WILL be engraved on his new spiked leather collar. Yeesh, I love my friends but they are odd people. I can't help but giggle at that name though. It does rock.
I think mostly I feel that way because Mikey is this huge tattoo'd biker who DJs on the side and is pretty much the example of tough guy male machismo. Not that he's an asshole or full of himself like that would insinuate, no way. He's a great guy but he really is the last dude you'd think would want a poofy yip yip dog like a Pomeranian. So that's why I find it funny and cool.
On a personal note, I'm somewhat irritated with my writing lately. I know it's selfish but sometimes I just want some fucking feedback... lol. It's ridiculous. I know people read my fics because I have counters and I know my website. I'm not sure how many stories I've written but I can say I probably get a 2% feedback ratio for all of them put together.
A bit disheartening to say the least but nothing more than that because I'm quite aware I write for my own enjoyment, not for the response of readers. Still, I make no preconceptions of being someone who is above the need for honest feedback. That would make me a liar and I'm not too fond of those.
But on a happier note, I should hope, I start classes for my Paralegal Certification tomorrow. Whee! Perhaps I can discover the name of my hot Sanford Brown President?
