I told him we weren’t going to be celebrating him everyday on the Internet anymore. He did the burp that usually means no problem. Then he raided my nightstand and chewed up my bills and loose change. He also set off the alarm button on my wife’s Jeep key. Poor woman had to go out and make sure thieves weren’t stealing her Patriot. (I kid. She diagnosed the problem and solved it with a click without leaving the media room. But it makes a good story.)
I think Raebert was telling me that I can run off to the Garage and start the new site called Media Knackers (look for it), but sighthounds are still a force to be reckoned with, mysterious, wise, and only seemingly stupid. Except when they’re overwhelmingly, obliviously, mind-numbingly idiotic. Though thrifty.
He didn’t eat all or even most of the dollar bill. He stopped short of rendering it invalid as currency. He’s a Scot, after all.
As am I.
I get it. He knows I still have a link-filled post or two in the queue. Why waste it? Scots detest waste. And after what he did with my loose change, I think he’s also making a point about the tip jar I never set up here. Raebert would like a tip, please.
I say don’t give it to him. He’s been a beast lately. Doesn’t deserve it.
And I still can’t find my other sock. He’s almost four, for God’s sake. Isn’t it time he stopped abusing my stuff?