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sf sapphire and steel winning

April 2016



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sf doctor who meant to be?

as i walk these streets i know

It's finally Spring in New England (I got out of Wisconsin just in time, apparently; I beat the blizzard by a day) and I get to be home with my dog for a whole three weeks before I head back to the Midwest.

With spring come the historical re-enactors. There's a pile of them camped out on the town common currently, firing off muskets and terrifying my poor dog. He would like you to know that he is not a gun dog. He doesn't mind thunderstorms in the least, but the musketry was bad enough that he had to climb into my lap and tremble.

I was half tempted to go out there and give them a piece of my mind, but I suppose it wouldn't be neighborly. And they probably have a permit or something.

The bugler playing Taps horribly was more frightening to me. But I'm not a Briard.

ETA: Oh, god, now they're playing fiddle. Badly.


My sympathies. The old man here doesn't care for fireworks OR thunder, and the space under my desk is big enough for my legs, or a 70lb moosedog, but really not both. And giving him an enormous bone only makes him forget the problem for the three minutes it takes him to inhale it. I keep thinking that I should get some Dog Prozac or something...