16 December 2014

The Hounder of Hounds

The Hammer wanted out last night. 3:00 AM. There was a ruckus going down up the mountain a spell from the house. Wildlife on my mountain know how to party. Like fucking animals.

On such occasions as this the Hammer has a routine. First she runs towards the mountain like a bull towards a matador. Does not bark. Then she stops and picks up what information she could not pick up indoors on the wind and the wildlife telegraph.

Then she barks. Loud as Rude Norton on a Smiling Buddha Saturday night.

I know my dog pretty good so I know what she is thinking when she barks out back by herself in the night.

"I am the hounder of hounds. The killer of killers. Fuck you fuckers! I'll eat your balls for breakfast!"

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