1 post tagged “children”
Today, around 11 a.m., I get a text message on my phone. I look at it and it's from a number I don't recognize. I open the message and it's a picture of a child, possibly around 2, riding on a grocery store amusement horse. The text says "giddy up!" And there is a sound attatched that is horse clopping.
OK. Who is this child?
I google the number and discover it's in Tennessee. I am appropriately confused. Is this the wrong number, or is this, in fact, someone I SHOULD know, sending me a picture of their child and, uncaring clod that I am, I don't recognize her? Before I can send a message back inquiring just who the hell this is, I get another text message from the same number.
"Sorry. That's the only picture I have of myself."
Holy smokes! This child is a genius! Not only did this child manage to send me a picture, she typed text AND attached a sound.
I text back and say "Did you send this to the right number? Because I don't recognize the child nor the number. If I do know you, I'm very embarrassed."
I get a text back that says "Sorry. I meant to send to 3036, not 3063."
Well, I guess that toddler's not as smart as I thought. Couldn't even get the number right.
In other news, there is a dog who roams around my apartment complex. He's not a particularly scary dog. He resembles a Chihuahua and wears a black collar, but never seems to have an owner nearby.
This dog has become my nemesis. He has tried to walk into my house. He has nipped at my heels. And he likes to bark at me.
This morning, I step outside to have a morning cigarette. I see Killer walk by, and I find myself foolishly ducking out of site. I'm hiding from a dog that my lame cats could clearly whip the ass of in a dogo-a-cato battle. He doesn't see me, so I sit down and light the smoke. This gets his attention.
Killer begins to bark hysterically. I implore him to be quiet, as it is, after all, before 8 a.m. He is not deterred. I don't see anything outside except a pen, which I pick up and wave in his general direction. This does little to deter his hysterics, either.
No, dog, see, you don't understand. I LIVE here. You are the outsider. You don't need to alert anyone that I'm out here. I am where I'm supposed to be and my grandma doesn't live around here, so tattling on my smoking is doing you no good.
Finally, I set the cigarette down and step inside for a second. He leaves. I step back outside. He's moved on, but is going up and down the sidewalk barking as loud as he can.
I guess he's saving the entire complex from themselves.
