So I brought everybody to Dirt Nite last night. It's been a while since I banished Gustavo, and being a somewhat foolish masochist and all, I thought, let's see how it goes.
So as far as the barking goes, well, yeah. There was still a lot of barking. But maybe perhaps, just maybe, a teensy, tiny bit less. Smidegen less. Teeny weeny tiny bit less.
I'm all, "Hey Rob-doesn't it sound like my dogs are sort of quieter? Kind of? A little?"
He's all, "I dunno. I can't really hear them over my dogs."
Cool.
Isn't that sort of like they're quieter?
Never mind the peanut gallery up there on the deck with their fingers in their ears when Rob ran Fate or when I ran Hobbes and monkeybarkscream over the top started in. Or Michelle who got really fed up and started trying to make them sit and shut up. Her dog never barks. I was just ignoring.
So when I'm ignoring, it sounds sort of quieter.
And maybe you're wondering, how were Gustavo's weave poles? Did he do them? Am I gonna come clean on that dirty fact?
Yep. A bunch. Fast, in courses, hit every entry, no driveways, no popping out. Just fast and head low and like super professional looking.
Right on. Good boy. Just bark. I don't care anymore.
Did you ever dream that you were a dog agility super champ except then it switched and you were at some germy, grungy, derelict seaside park in the dark and the carnies were actually drug addled zombies that were shambling after you with hammers and their big teeth? And then as you're trying to escape your way out from under their oily, horrible claws by clambering up a rat infested palm tree, you're all, this is about dog agility like, how?
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