Thursday, September 21, 2017
River Song: Common Night Walker
Now that summer is ending my sister, and I have gone back to being common nightwalkers. Our exercise time is after supper. With the cooler weather approaching Mother Nature has to save on energy to pay the heating bill, so it gets dark earlier.
My parents enjoy walking us in the dark. We don’t have any interruptions. If it is sunlight, there are white walkers slowly roaming the site in packs. They get Pocket, and I worked up by moving at a slow, steady pace and not paying attention to us. Nothing causes unrest for my sister, and I like being ignored. We start barking to get their attention but most of the time the deaf bastards just keep walking.
Occasionally a white walker, usually a woman, will pay attention to us, but for some reason, we both get hit with a case of the stupids. We bark, run to them, backup, bang heads, stagger around, nip at one another, and eventually chase them off with nothing but a mental note in their head to donate to the United Lap Dog College Fund.
Last week, when we were on our last walk of the evening, close to midnight, just a quick jaunt down the street so I can sniff and Pocket can take her late night poop, we came to a storm drain. My sister and I looked down the opening while Daddy, who was walking us solo, pulled on our leashes trying to dislodge us from our pursuit when we both began to bark angrily into the drain and pull on our leash.
All the white walkers go to bed at 8:00 to make sure they see the sunrise and were promised another day, so Daddy hates when we bark late at night, but our attention to the storm drain particularly bothered him as he wondered what had our attention, and then he yelled “Pennywise!” pulled us away from the drain and began dragging us back to the house, leaving a trail of late night Pocket poop in the middle of the road. He got us inside, double locked the door, and shut out the lights.
What did we see down the drain? We will never say.
But if you ever want to scare the poop out of your parents, and you walk at night, bark down a storm drain.
Man does that freak them out.