Letting go day 7: North American Hootenanny

You remember our dog Chuck, right? Friendly. Drooly. Barky. Enormous.

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The night before last, he dropped a massive load on the living room rug. Then last night, in the garage, he made another plus-sized deposit.

Because the weather is warm now, we’ve considered leaving him out, but Chuck will bark most of the night, which robs us of sleep and leads the neighbors to mutter and put nasty notes in our mailbox. I don’t know what to do.

Maybe we try canine diapers. Or maybe we try Imodium. Or maybe we buy a shock collar and let him stay outside all night.

(I sense your disapproval from here. No, we won’t jolt old Chuck with electricity, even if sometimes, when he’s staring at a wall and barking and barking and barking, we kind of want to. )

Otherwise:

1. This is the final day of my daily blogging experiment. Hal. Lay. Freakin. Loo. Ya. Okay, not really. It’s been fine, but I’m growing weary of writing about my days in the life, which are marginally interesting, even to me.

*. I’m going to the North American Hootenanny on the rooftop of the One-2-One bar tomorrow night. You should come. It’s free, and I’m pretty sure you like free.

trois. Slade climbed into bed this morning before sunrise and accidentally kicked me in the eye. I hope it was an accident, anyway.

Until next time, dudes and dudettes.

Be good. Try not to kick your father in the eye.

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