DACHSHUNDS

Years ago I wrote an essay that was more like a rant than a serious view expressed cogently. Which, for folks just tuning in, is something that happens here rather a lot. Because this blog is a soap box, and I need to express my sanity somehow. In it I lauded a particular kind of canine, because I am an animal person. I like furballs.

Dogs were not the subject of the post.
But they took over.

WOOF!

I've been a bachelor for several years now. The alternative might be worse, but I'm not striving to change. Life with no dogs, cats, or significant other, is not so bad. There's tea, books, my pipe collection and tobaccos to smoke in it, and fascinating stuff on Wikipedia.
Plus dabbling in graphics, and reading disturbing news items.
In between I take walks, work a few days each week, take care not to insult the people with whom I come in regular contact, and sleep.


You'll be glad to know I do not hang around in bars ogling loose men or women, take all of my medicines regularly, eat well though peculiarly, and like observing people, so I'm not some antiquated antisocial old fart.


And I get along well with animals. Other than food and head-rubbies, they're not demanding.

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