9 July 2015
I have been writing about my dog, the Hammer, for just about a decade now. This wee electronic effort ought to be called the Dog Shit City Free Press. Yet I probably have never presented you a true measure of the Newfoundland I have spent much of my middle years with.
Yesterday we were walking along when we came upon a nestling crow in our path. Poor little fuck bird started squawking like shit and trying to hop away when the Hammer approached it with her usual curiosity.
But my dog did not clamp down on the big baby bird as you might have expected. Instead she looked to me with her kind eyes where she found the merciful advice she was hoping for. We found our way around the bird and continued on without acting like a fucking cat and torturing and killing the helpless thing.
She is a kind dog the Hammer is. I try and be like her.