Twitter Smitter

Me and the Boss (he’s the one typing) don’t get this Twitter thing. If I want to give a shout out to my buds, I stand in the back yard raise up a good guttural howl. Works every time. Drives the Boss crazy. Frankly, I think he’s just jealous I don’t need all that tech stuff to wrangle up some babes.

Sure, the canines in California can’t hear me (or the next county, for that matter), but frankly they ain’t comin’ to see me any time soon, if ever. Besides, I may have to share the lil’ hottie next door. And who the hell needs 436 friends anyway? And callin’ strangers ‘friends’ is dumb if you can’t exchange a good butt sniff. Technology’s got a long way to go as far as I’m concerned. Most people don’t know themselves well enough to deserve more than a couple of people they call friends anyway. Gotta spend time together, to look into their eyes, windows of their souls, and dance a bit on the carpet of their heart, touching one another. That’s what the Boss would say. Me, I curl up on a sunny spot on the floor with my buds. I got your back, you got mine. Doesn’t get much better than that.

The more I watch the Boss (I call ‘im that ‘cause he tells me when I get to eat and when I get to howl at my ‘friends’ – midnight is out, just so everyone knows) the more I realize he’s getting more like his dad, only his dad wouldn’t go up to a woman and comment on her shoes: “Are those Fendi?” That’s when I jump around from behind his leg and wink at the girl to throw her off his weirdness. (Dude, sometimes you just bark up the wrong tree.)

But I appreciate his John Wayne style. He just wades in, helps her with her coat and smiles a lot. None of that predetermined pretentiousness. All the Boss checks is if his zipper is up when he leaves the house. He doesn’t preen for the web cam. Hell, he’s got no web cam – not since I found a round thing on the floor and thought it was some new fangled ball or something. How was I to know? Didn’t smell like a web cam.

But I guess we need to leave room for those that do the aged old ‘Me, John…You Jane’ thing a new way. Seems like a lot of trouble to go to, especially when TROUBLE is already in the house.