On Fri, 22 Nov 1996, Jeremy DuBois wrote:
> Well, about a day after that whole threat got started, what happens? I
> come home and there they are! Gobs of dirty cat prints all over my fresh
> new paint job.
> So just as I'm thinking of all the evil, terrible things that were
> suggested to be done to cats, I feel something rubbing at my leg. I look
> down to see the sweetest little creature staring up at me with big innocent
At 7 a.m., hoping for quiet wind and no dirt, I had the doors of my bugeye
ready for final painting, all laid out on sawhorses. I warned my wife to
keep the dog in, and laid on three perfect coats of catalyzed enamel.
Just as I finished the last coat, my dear wife Attilla opened the garage
door, having forgotten totally about my warning. Out came the dog, who
bounded around me (and the doors) in joyful greeting.
I did color sand and buff the doors, but if you look carefully you can
see little tracks where the dog hairs were. The long term solution was a
divorce. Hey, you couldn't blame the dog.
Ray Gibbons Dept. of Molecular Physiology & Biophysics
Univ. of Vermont College of Medicine, Burlington, VT
gibbons@northpole.med.uvm.edu (802) 656-8910
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