"She's perfect," said Juno's Physical
Torturer, Therapist, Mme. Gauthier. She noticed Juno's walking gate was a perfect long, stress-free stride.
Juno rolls her eyes. "Sibes don't come any other way lady."
The Dansko's are still alive. It's day 182. I made it! I had a few close calls and Juno had a few masticatory substitutes.
My prize winning? Another pair of shoes of course. I have shown that I am worthy. So the moral is: Mr. Wild Dingo loses when I lose the bet. And Mr. Wild Dingo loses when I win the bet. And Wild Dingo players always win. The two runner-ups probably ate all their Swiss chocolate by now.
Thanks for playing. And for all those who had no faith in me and bet on the Sibe: better luck next time suckhas! But seriously, did you think I was going to make easy for her?
In other news, Juno is down to 28.3 kg. She lost a total of 1.7 kg (3.7 lbs). She's feeling fiesty. The other day, she jumped up on the bed without an invitation. She's feeling pretty good to be able to do that and be naughty enough to ignore the "no dogs on furniture without an invitation" rule.
"Daddy O, this photo shoot is lame."
"I think it's time we bust-a-move."
No cash for the treat jar but you'd like to show the love? No problem! Connect with me on LinkedIn and endorse my creative writing skills. Thanks for the love!
"Your project is guaranteed to meet superior Siberian standards or I will fatally masticate it. You have my "woo" on that!"
"I keep your project safe from crows, coyotes, and flies. I prefer to be paid in salmon treats and tennis balls."
"I manage the treat jar & the staff's daily payroll of cookies and bones. The staff is excellent at math and let me know when I come up short."