|
|
|
� |
|
I really ought to be in bed, but I'm going to explode if I don't share. First, KASF was delightful. I was shocked. The last one I went to wasn't anything like this cool. Fin and Gerlach were the rock stars of the demo hall, making a mess and looking happy as clams. I got to cry in court, too, first over beautiful, radiant Mistress (Maestra?) Giuliana, then for Mistress Mistress Thjora. Mistress Elisabeth reduced me to tears as she begged their Majesties to make her unnamed friend a Pelican, and I tried very hard not to look at Thjora sitting two seats away from me. She, oblivious, heard herself described, with only a tiny fraction of her many good works and long labours listed, as I ruined my makeup and looked the other way. I didn't want to spoil the surprise! I finally managed to quit crying on the way home. I am so very happy for them both. They are treasures. Our plan for celebrating the Samurai's birthday by eating bait en masse was dampened somewhat by the absence of Fin and Elisabeth. We did manage to be somewhat festive, nonetheless. Today, Naro-dono's actual birthday, we went to my brother's house to cuddle the baby nephew and eat some of Kim's fine cooking. We left when the obnoxious weather fairies on TV starting yammering about violent thunderstorms. Halfway home, the skies opened and the thunder rolled, and we hurried, concerned for Casey's sanity. Wonder Borkitas don't like thunderstorms. We scurried inside, getting drenched, and cautiously opened the door. No doggie. We called him, and checked living room, dining room, and kitchen, in vain. No dog in our room, nor in the guest room, but the guest bed had a curious wet patch. No Casey anywhere! How many hiding places can a hundred-pound wide load get into? Finally, I noticed that the shower curtain in the guest bath was slightly awry. Pulling it aside, I found Casey, shivering and moaning, crouched in a puddle of his own urine. Poor, poor ole pup! He didn't stop shaking until he was on my lap with his head firmly wedged under my arm. He's okay now that the storm has passed, but he's determined to stay in physical contact with the Samurai, no matter what. Our theory is that he was asleep on the (forbidden) guest bed when the storm broke, woke terrified, wet the bed, then ran for the tub. (For future guest-bed occupants, don't worry; it has a moisture barrier, and I have excellent pet-smell removal skills.) So, the Samurai's birthday present appears to be giant fluffy Borkita slippers. |
 
|
KASF, Mistresses, and Borkita Pee