And Uncle... I mean, Mister T... he lather me up real good. And though I never try to escape once baff commence, I would like to state for the record that this time I hop up on bench on own accord.
And really it feel gooooooood....
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That is until I notice the Bleu, he is laughin at the me and cavortin all round the deck and the gardens and he is just revellin in he ornary cuteness!
And I think to self... "O the Bleu, just you wait... on a counta your gigglin patooty is next!"
And it was! Who is laughin now? Heh heh heh heh heh heh... well, I guess... the me! Heh heh heh!
And the Bleu, he did stop makin fun but did get into some serious enjoyment of the dryin off and brushin processes!
And meanwhile I tolerate those same processes, after bein called in from mulch pile, mud puddle and gate breachment evaluations...
And when I try to privately discuss these allurin locales and possible security weakness wif the Buddy, the Mom snap pitcher, document moment.
And sometime I fink I never have privacy to just have Buddy chat...
And pretty soon we all go inside and the Bleu get he toe nails and slippers adjusted and I do not on a counta my the Mom promise me not... and though this pitcher is fuzzy, I fink you get idea... I just chill.
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