Bedlington: Resurrection


Okay, I am back.

This has been one heck of a year and I am, frankly, exhausted. I have moved three times in as many dog years, and I think that i deserve a rest.

I am an Arlington dog once again, which suits my somewhat elevated sense of self. While proximity to the Metro means nothing to those of us forbidden from using the system, it does provide me with ample opportunity to harass commuters on my morning walks.

And there are bunnies. Bunnies, bunnies, everywhere. Now that I am back to being walked on lead, rather than wandering the small piece of Reston wilderness at Grandma’s, I can chase the bunnies for about 3.5 feet before the collar kicks in and I am left, frankly, very unsatisfied.

I have become the barkee in the yard wars, as I pass the fenced in dogs protective of their turf. My sympathy is limited however, as canine property law fairly clearly gives me ownership of the external features of the backyard fence and flora. I, um, “filed the paperwork”.

Moron now works for the Government. I have been assured that it is not the government that has given me a number for my name. But the bigger government, which actually does not regulate me at all. Bedlingtons not taxed. Shlomo Shrugged.

Moron tells me that there are those who have requested updates for the time that I have been gone. If he had told me sooner, I may have acted on it sooner. But Moron did not want to worry me because, let us speak truthful words, Moron is a moron.

I’ll cut him out of the loop and deal with the keyboard myself. I owe it to all three of my fans.

Just five more minutes, please, just five more.

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