Dog seeks Doe for companionship, love and more

My dog has a dream. He dreams of leaping freely through the forest, white tail flashing, long legs stretching and pounding the dirt and leaves, leaving a scented wake of mystery, spreading behind and onto the civilized path. This dog, white with light black markings, a mix of Siberian Husky and Shepherd, has fallen in love with the entire essence of deer, his longing is clear. His hackles don't rise like they do when we encounter other large animals, or other dogs. He doesn't bristle with the urge to hunt and kill, making him want to tear after the squirrels and chipmunks. When he catches the scent of the deer that run through our nearby wooded park, his tail wags wildly and he barks in pleasure. These are woods were deeper not that long ago, but have been razed and reduced by the need for houses and streets. The deer have only the illusion of freedom and plenty, the reality is one of limitations and fear; the sudden pain and often death, from encounters with speeding cars. For my leashed, semi- domesticated dog however, they are like the gods on Olympus. He yearns and strains and somehow, I feel his affection for them, as he rolls in their scented path, the only thing left for him, and I know if I give in and let go the leash, he'll be gone, but will ultimately find himself alone, panting in a deserted clearing, still wishing, but now lost to me as well as to his dream.
It makes me think of a young, long limbed girl, indentured to a future of hot sun and pulling grain, dreaming of ballet dancers, flowers and life untried.

If you're at McDonald's,,,

and you are worried about fats, calories, sugar and whether a soggy monopoly game piece for free fries can be cashed in, just forget all that, here's something else to focus on. Why is the counter person allowing the person ahead of you, to place a drippy, dirty toddler, butt side down, right on the counter, where soon, she'll be placing your nice hot Big and Tasty Meal, medium w/ diet coke. And which is worse, if the kid just sits there drooling, or if mom decides to stand the kid up on the counter, in shoes, worn by a child to young to know what not to step in. I'd say the shoe option is worse, but the seating option gets a more visceral reaction, from me anyway. If the counterperson spoke English, would they then dare to ask that the child be removed? Probably not, they'd probably be risking losing the tiny scrap of civility that remains, the shaky one that keeps McD's from becoming a screaming bloodbath at any given moment, over issues like the fries not ready when it's your turn, or having some cretin pour you the last dregs of ancient coffee, or hand you sour milk or salads with long dead dates--that's sell by dates, not a new fruit'n nut combo.
but I digress.

No animals were hurt in the making of this entry

Yet. If the dog, guilty soul that he is, has stolen more cookies today, from the new hiding place, then he may get swacked with a paper bag, for all the good it will do. This blog will start in the middle, and remain there, I really don't know where else to begin, so that's the current formula.
Today is November 14, and someone has just reminded me again, that it's Thanksgiving and what am I doing? As little as possible. Well, I'll make a turkey because it's a good way to get leftovers; it's embarrassing to steal them from your host, but one year I did say to my boyfriend's sis in law,,,hey, are you going to throw out that carcass? I didn't mean to, I just blurted it out when I saw her readying it for the trash. So she gave it to me and I took it home for soup, but I don't think it was an image enhancing thing for me. But we've been invited back, and last year I didn't take scraps home. This year, boyfriend wants to stay home, no visiting, so not only will I have leftovers of my own, there will actually be lots of elbow room and no need to pass things endlessly around, during the meal itself. And the salt and pepper will be right there where I can see them. oink. I'm ready. Bring on the traditionally burnt first batch of rolls.
Love, Nile