… on mothers day photo bombing, shepherd style
May 11, 2014
It’s Mothers Day, which requires me to do my annual thing.
Which is to check whether or not ‘Mothers Day’ has an apostrophe. And, if so, where?
Turns out, it does.
Between the ‘r’ and the ‘s’.
Seems selfish though.
Like, for one ‘mother’, rather than all mothers.
I just looked it up and Presidents Day has the apostrophe after the ‘s’.
Seems to me that Presidents-apostrophe Day is way more inclusive that Mother-apostrophe-‘s’ Day.
It’s probably because Presidents-apostrophe Day was created to celebrate politicians, and all politicians want to take credit for everything, especially holidays because when they give out holidays people vote for them.
So clearly the apostrophe would have to be after the ‘s’ so all presidents could be included in the day.
That apostrophe placement was probably the last truly bipartisan vote in the United States Congress.
There is no apostrophe in United States Congress, even though it is clearly the Congress belonging to all of the United States and hence should be the United States-apostrophe Congress.
I just checked and there is no government office called the Department of Punctuation, or I would certainly complain.
See. Without that Department, punctuation can run amuck ….. :)!?*7^%#!& and $.
Where was I?
Oh, right. Blaze.
So it’s Mother-apostrophe-‘s’ Day and I figured I would take Her Royal Highness the Princess Bunny Blaze (‘Bunny’ being her Mother-apostrophe-‘s name, and hence her ‘family’ name), outside to take her photo.
Blaze loves getting her photo taken, but has this wHierd little quirky thing if anyone else tries to get into the frame of her photos while she is posing for them. And, no, I am not kidding.
She gets very mad, makes a very mad face, and gets all growly.
And, sure, you might want to tell me that there is no way that a dog does this because how would the dog know that another dog is entering the frame of her prospective photograph and what dog actually knows you are taking her photo anyway?
Well, it is a very complicated thing to explain and all I can say is that maybe it is because Blaze is a Princess and it has something to do with Princesses being extra special sensitive like with that story about the Princess laying on a bazillion mattresses and having a terrible night-apostrophe-‘s’ sleep because there is a pea shoved way down below the bottom mattress. That story had a wHierd title and I will look it up hang on…
The Princess and the Pea.
It seems that, once again, you are requiring photographic proof that HRH Princess Bunny Blaze is very particular about being the only one in the photos that I am taking of her, and that she gets distracted and grumpy and growly if someone…. who could we be talking about here … wants to get into her photo with her.
Me: “Blaze…do you want your picture taken?”
Blaze-apostrophe-‘s ears prick up and she is ready for placement and posing. So we go under the little mapley tree and she sits and readies herself:
She looks focused.
Almost happy, even.
And then this happened:
And she would not have known that he was there, and all would have been just fine, except Marshal fidgets.
So now I am aware that she is going to have an issue so I tell her to ‘stay’ because, being the official royal photographer, I have been in this situation before.
So I say ‘stay’ again and she works very hard at it. Because Marshal Dillon Dingle is, in Blaze-apostrophe-‘s’ opinion, a freakin’ nightmare.
So she looks directly at me, hoping that I will discipline him (she is most likely thinking of having his ass thrown in the stocks)…
And he is not cooperating at all…
And so I say, ‘Marshal Dillon Dingle, you go lie down because I’m taking Blaze’s photo and you know she does not like you in her frame!”
And he goes and sits pretty much exactly where he was before.
And then he starts obnoxiously chewing on his red Jolly Ball.
And then, because she cannot take it any more because all she wanted was one freakin’ picture without the little S.O.B in it….
After this photo, I had to go break up the fight.
Oh don’t worry. The ‘fight’ consists of Blaze erupting in growly barking and Marshal Dillon Dingle shrieking at the top of his lungs and running behind my legs. Blaze never touches him, but the fear of God that has been struck into Marshal Dillon Dingle-apostrophe-‘s’ soul should be enough for a few good Blaze portraits over the next day or so.
After that, all bets are off.
Because in addition to being somewhat memory challenged, Marshal Dillon Dingle’s absolute favorite thing is annoying the frack out of Blaze.
Typical little brother.
Thanks for readin’.
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