Yeah yeah. Back so soon. This isn't going to become a habit, trust me. I've got heaps better things to do than sit in front of a computer. Like eat. Sleep. Eat again. Sleep again. With the occasional peto to keep people on their toes. I'm currently practising the Italian national anthem.
Anyways, one of the downsides of doghood is anthropomorphism. Human beings not only treat you like one of them, they ascribe human characteristics. One of the upsides of doghood is that you can humor the poor saps, feigning human characteristics, watching their human faces light up in delight when they think they've made personal contact. Per esempio:
Two-legged dog: Well, Dermott, what d'you reckon about the US sub-prime mortgage imbroglio?
Me: I reckon it only underlines the utter frailty of the capitalist system vis a vis its dependence on intangibles like confidence.
The two-legged dog walks away chuffed that their pet makes Einstein look like a hairy goose who stuck his finger in a power outlet.
And I snigger up my hairy sleeve. Gotcha again, bub.
All of which brings me to the fact that I've been tagged. Tagging is, apparently, an internet blog thing. So I read online. I wouldn't really know. I'm a dog, after all.
My first tag came from Judith. Judith's a terrific person, grande cuoca, friend of the two-legged dogs. And mine. She even reads my inane utterances to be found littering this site.
Overlooking the fact that I'm just a dog, she wants me to list my five strengths as a writer.
1. I have paws the size of elephants' feet. Without assistance, when I try to type - per esempio, the letter A - I get this on the screen: 2t7213uot. Two-legged dogs should try picking out the letter A on their keyboard with a clenched fist.
See what I mean?
Thus, ingenuity became my first strength as a writer. With a pencil clenched between my over-sized teeth, I learned to pick out the keys I needed. First downside - it takes me eight weeks to type a sentence. Second downside - I've developed an addiction to both pencil lead and the timber around it. I'm up to two packs of pencils a day. I'm looking into the availability of pencil lead and timber patches.
2. I suppose imagination is a strength. A very old, very experienced writer once told one of my two-legged dogs that the key to writing is to take the lid off your imagination. Sometimes I imagine Barbra as a medium-rare burger.
3. I'm a perfectionist. I can go through an extra pack of pencils getting a phrase exactly right - if not absolutely perfectly grammatically right, right in the context of the flow and rhythm, and, even more importantly, right in the choice of the appropriate word for its colour and tone. That's a lot of rights. More rights than a Formula One circuit. I'd call myself anal retentive but the peti belie that.
4. As per the immediately above, I hate prosaic. Barbra brings new meaning to prosaic.
5. Fun. I like to have fun. I like fun. The world is a sh*thouse place with not enough fun in it.
Excuse me while I open another pack of pencils.