Sam googled dog kennels during the day – oh for the life of a IT employee – and he came up with two from Bunnings. A dog kennel from Bunnings, oh the dizzy heights of luxury, flat-pack shopping. Shouldn’t we be frequenting boutique shops on the high street, where the girl behind the counter in named Madeline, who calls everyone, darling, in a too-many-joints-inhaled-in-the-back-lane-before-work kind of voice? Ha ha, ho ho. Couple shopping, urban, Mark said, clichéd, work, shops, tired, hassled, Thursday night shoppers, jostling for parking spaces… all the things that run through your head are funny, if only in retrospect.
It is a good thing we are a couple modern day poofter boys who are handy with a tape measure, as we knew the exact sizes that would fit and that wouldn’t. We bought him the largest one, and I am even wondering if the current door will be big enough for him when he is fully grown? Never mind, I’m sure we could renovate it with a saw, if need be. I’ve renovated who houses before (Ed note – he had other people do it for him), how hard could cutting a larger doorway in a kennel be?
It was easy to assemble. Buddy when straight into it when it was finally jostled into position.
I lit a fire and set up camp in the lounge room. Sam made noodles.
We took turns at puppy training. Turns meant we alternated between our turns at saying, “No,” and Buddy’s turns at being out in his bed.
I rolled too many joints, of course.
Looking over at Sam’s expressionless, some may say pained, face lying on the couch, where I am used to seeing him smile, has made me wonder about buying any more bags of pot for LeeLou, only to have her not to come and collect them when she says and me smoking them… three thus far.
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