Some background: As you may know, the foster-man has been pretty negligent in his blog-typing duties (he is tapping away for me right now) over the last few weeks. I would come over and nudge his arm, per usual, to let him know I had a new adventure to tell everyone about. But he would just give me a pet and keep staring and mumbling at his books. A few days ago he left for a few days to go to the "Bar." I've been thinking a lot about what that bad, bad "bar" is, and I'm pretty sure it must look something like this:
I think the "Bar" is near that fire-ball-eye. Look for a foster-man with flash cards. |
Anyway, me and little-hound foster-brother and foster-lady were pretty excited for foster-man to get back from the volcano-laden "Bar." So foster-lady went out and got some decorations to have a party at the foster-house. I love parties. I helped foster lady hang up the decorations, helped make some good food (and kind-of, half-, sort-a thought about ways to help taste it), and, of course, looked out for any potential lion attacks. Anyway, foster lady had some nice, shiny balloon-looking decorations. I watched for the lions when she put them up.
But then. I discovered the shiny-balloon menace. When foster-lady left the room, the shiny-balloons started moving and swaying and spinning. All by themselves. I knew at that moment that this was some kind of a lion-plot to trap valiant African Lion Hounds and kind party-throwing foster-ladies. Something had to be done.
So I did what any reasonable, valiant, African Lion Hound would do. I sounded the alarm. And then I told those lion-balloons who was boss. I barked. And I growled. And I protected little-hound foster-brother. He was pretty useless. He just looked at me with a funny look, let out a huff, and went out his dog-door-flap. No help at all. Then, foster-lady came back. I tried to warn her and keep her from coming in. I had to protect her from the shiny, spinning lion-trick. But she wasn't listening to me, in that typical foster-lady fashion. She went right up to that lion-trick and touched it. And nothing happened. I realized, the suburban Virginia lions are not very good at their own lion tricks. Not like African lions.
So it was safe for the party. But I made sure to keep an eye on those lion-tricks to make sure there was no trouble a-foot. Lest those lions figure out how to better infiltrate this foster-house.
Yep, it was a good time. I had a ball. And was ready for a nice Lion Hound sleep afterwards. With my ball, of course.
Ah, that was a good party. |