Tuesday, April 2, 2013

And The Way Inside the House Is...

Ah, Craigie Dillon.  So precious to me, but coming inside is odd.

I have to wonder about the sanity in the racing industry. 

Craigie last won a race in 2007 that I can tell.  I don’t know when, for sure, he was given to rescue (yeah, that “rescue” word).  I didn’t adopt him until 2011. 

I’m searching track info and grey data, neither of which is updated with any reliability.  The industry is known for accountability.

My guess, quite a few years stuck in limbo somewhere.

Thank God they didn’t just toss him out.

Craigie Dillon
My beautiful dork can barrel up the deck steps, but the inside steps send him into infant colt zone.  Trembling legs. 

He can barrel up stairs but is completely unable to take the step up into the minivan I bought them.  Lardbutt, lifting you was not in the plan.

Craigie Dillon 
Laying on the bed in the living room, charges me when I go into the kitchen – where you going?.  Dare I go to the bathroom?  Lump-a-lump gallops down the hall.  Um, a bit of privacy would be nice, Dills.

They raced this guy?  That many times?  Greed buggers.

I let him out and he wanders, digs holes and amuses himself then charges the open door as if I were gone for years.  Yet, I run the vacuum and he’s breaking the door down within 30 seconds.  Silly man, one paw at the door does it.

The industry raced this kid.  Why?  Because he was a Gable Dodge offspring?  He is tall?  To squeak a couple pennies off my baby?

This boy is so innocent and so childlike.  


Greed and shame on you.

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