Here Boy

Here Boy

My wife is away on a business trip.
I keep a very small stash of pop just for occasions like this. Earlier this evening, after I got home for work, I smoked a small bowl and took my door for a walk. I went through the park and adjoining school yard, around the entire neighborhood. I stopped to chat with a few neighbors and get a bag of chips at the corner 7-11.

I got home and settled in front of the TV and called for Conner (the dog). Conner did not come. I called a few more times and it finally hit me – I didn’t bring him back home! I left home with him, and I was pretty sure he was with me up to the point that I went into the 7-11, at which point I vaguely recalled looping his leash on the bike rack outside.

In a panic, I ran outside and tripped right over him – he was laying down on the welcome mat at our front door.

I confess that at age 53, it is time for me to stop smoking weed.

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