walkin' the dog

baby's back
dressed in black
silver buttons running down her back
hi - ho
tippy-toe
she broke the needle and she can't sew
*walkin' the dog*
*walkin' the dog*
and if you don't know how to do it
I'll show you how to
*walk the dog*

I try to walk about 4 kms a day. Yesterday, walking through Cedarvale Park, I noticed about two thousand dogs. Barking, running, chasing each other, frolicking in the crisp winter air. Being a dog has got to be the highest form of bliss known to man, er, I mean, to *dog*. The innocent playfulness, the trust, the love, the profound happiness of retreiving a stick...

On the other hand, there are dog-men and dog-women. Entirely different categories. The dog men bark but are not playful or trusting. They snarl and growl and bark. They bite. Dog-women look like this....



Don't know if they're playful because no one wants to play with them

Played a dog-gig yesterday. Worked like a dog. Drooled like a dog when I heard my keyboard player's chops. He drooled like a dog when he got his burger and fries. I dogged the manager to give me another gig but he dodged my dogging. Came home dog-tired.

See: everything dog-related sounds negative, yet dogs themselves are such great creatures. Why is that? Doggone it if I know....