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Hot ain’t Better than Cool, nor Cold fer that Matter

July 12, 2012

Last night weren’t a very good wun fer my friends hare nor fer me and Lil One fer that matter. Whin it starts ta warmup so much that the heat from the seamint keeps a festerin at ya all night long, ewe douwn’t git much sleep.  An after a few nights liek this, even we kin smell that our aroma taint none too pleasin which coupled tagether with the heat makes our irritabilitee toward one other rise to abouwt the same temperture as the seamint! Normully, vagabonds is as congenital taward each other as caring human beings can be an evun moreso than most two-leggeds, but whin ya cain’t find a waterin hole ta elleviate sum uv the odor an ewe is caravanin’ cross country with the same smelly vagabonds, wa’ell a bit uv cold weather would be purdee welcum. It’s not that we worry that much abouwt the weather (or the smell usually), speciully considerin all the extra worries caravanin vagabonds have, but since me and Lil One jist joined up with these vagabonds, and jist had a spell uv sum purdee unfortunate avents with zombies bafore leavin Portland, we’re still takin that thare Bush feller’s color advise an seein all fouwks thru orange colored glasses….

After last night, when Lil One could’unt find some cool shade in the grass er under a tree an had ta lay in the dust next ta the smelly horde of us fer the night, she did’unt evun look liek she wanted ta git up at’tall this mornin. I’m purdee worried she taint gonna make the whole trip, especiully whin we hits the desert bafore New Mexico. See, she’s goin on fifteen an has four-legged arthritis which the vet says is twice as bad as the two-legged variety soes I give her double the pills, but I cain’t leave her behind. I also jist ain’t ready ta send her off ta that thare yonder world yet, speciully considerin what happened back at that forest cottage in Portland when those human zombies came otta nowhere an startid pretendin ta be carin’. I told ewe alls about Rasha bafore, but I taint said much abouwt Lil One, and thare’s a reason bahind that. I’m supposin it’s time ta try’n dew that but I ain’t promisin. It’s still a might unsettlin everytime I ponder upon it, but here goes.

Lil (short for Little) One’s always ben the Queen I recollect, an has travelled her entire kingdom lots in her fifteen years, and acktually received her crown frum the four-legged vagabond compadres when we decided ta join ’em. I evun gots pictures uv her bein Queen in fronta that fancy Hotel that Leona woman usta brag abouwt evun tho she wood’unt let us stay thare (think she was a’feared Lil One would steal all the attentiun frum her guests an she was right). She’s also abit uv a legend amongst the gnomes and elves from the forest and there weren’t a chipmunk a livin in Pouwk County that did’unt shudder in fear whin it’a feel the ground tremblin an hear her four leggs a’thunderin taward it. Why, she’d evun grab a bird right otta the air an spit it ouwt in frunt uv those chipmunks jist ta let em know they weren’t gonna git away evun if they wished an learned themselves ta fly! Other dawgs knowed she was the smartist an the purdeeist, so they purdee much left her be whin they’d come ta visit at that Wisconsin place by a lake, speciully when she was in her Queenin mode, and that was purdee much all the time whin she was thare. Heck, every spring she’d tryta conquestador that thare lake back from the gaggles uv ducks n’ swans, but whin she tussled with the raccoon an muskrat in it a couple times an figured ouwt they knowed moor bouts not gittin a snoot full a water when wrestlin but also knowed howta make shore she did, she decided ta stick ta rulin the chipmunks an the land instead.

Evun her brother Blu (who was acktully the purdeeist and he knowed that) knowed she was the smartist, an Queen, and also knowed she was the bedder hunter. Whin those chipmunks would think she was a sleepin in her castle an try an take her acorns without payin her their Royaltee tax jist fer the honor uv bein in her presence, an she’d trumpet ouwt the yelp that the hunt was on, he was purdee quiet an respectful. He never evun dared ta try an git ahead uv her in the hunt, seein’s he could’unt figure ouwt how that door would jist blast right open at her nod every time, but just sit thar stone cold closed in front uv him. Heck, if he didn’t git his legs a goin fast enuf when the royal huntin trumpet sounded, that door would jist swing right back an slam shut in front uv him, and he’d jist sit thare tryin ta think what that magic nod could be! He sat thare quite a spell in his day, but whin he got alittle older an realized everybody, two or four-legged, could open that door but he still couldn’t, he’d just lay down an start pretendin he didn’t really want ta go ouwt anyway. I told ya Blu was the purdeeist.

But this was far enuf as I could go taday cause I start thinkin about Blu an abouwt the series of completely unrelated coincidences of unfortunate avents we encountered back Portland way with those zombies pretendin ta be human an pretendin ta be carin’, an I start’s a gittin a humidty issue along with the vagabond irritabilitee temperture a’goin way up. Hopefully tamorrow it’ll cool off sum an all us vagabonds kin cool off sum an start bein congenital with each other again as we usually is. I douwn’t nun care much what the weather’s like tamarrow if thare is any uv ewe zombies still pretendin ta be human a’readin this. Nor the day after fer that matter.

Vagabond Ted

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