That Super Star gene. It is hard to attain….but even harder to restrain….I mean, I can not help myself. I am what I am… Momma claims (very lovingly, you understand) that I am pig-headed (somewhat stubborn – I will own that fault…as in one of today’s cool, but irritating catch phrases) and big-headed. Don’t get me wrong. The size of my head is just perfect now, not like when I was a little pup with a big head and a small body.
It is just that, well, I think highly of myself and my God-given (to tell the truth) abilities to be an Einstein Super Star which takes brains, management abilities and of course, don’t forget, my good looks and athletic abilities.
You see, having an almost old world mind of Socrates, I realize where would Momma have been without me, in her life, pestering her, annoying her – the yin to her yang or the yang to her yin. In truth, I was the first little seed, buried deep in the rich earth that Momma tended, watered, fed, talking to me until I pushed my head out of the ground, towards the light of the sun.
What is that? You want scientific proof? Why can’t it be like the Good Old Days when a dog’s paw shake and tail wag was her bond, never to be broken, So–Help–Me–Dog.
So for your Doubting Thomas’ (and Thomasinas’), I know Hot Dog Cool Cats, though buried in Momma’s subconscious, never saw the light of day, until I gazed in to her eyes and commanded, ‘Do it. Just Do It.’…..and I did not even have to give her a treat for her to comply. I guess Momma takes direction better than me! But don’t let that go to your head, Momma.
Through the process of osmosis, gazing deep in to my eyes (let it be underlined, ME first, then those Cool Cats, amazing wildlife, inanimate (not Ruby, she’s alive, I pinkie swear) and all those other tales dripped out of Momma’s fingertips, to the keyboard and in to posts.
Super Star though I am, it is still hard for me to imagine that my Plan, Check, Do Process actually achieved its long-term goal. I am ready to be a Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of a Fortune 500 Company. Proof is in the pudding. I can develop, implement, all the while making life and death decisions. Oh, and I don’t need a contract or break the bank bonus, whether the company is profitable or not, just food (I have an Executive’s mind. I eat the cats’ food but I have a restraining order against the cats getting anywhere near mine), treats (small and soft), dog bones (only certain types), and walks (It’s ‘Good for Me.’ Brings down my blood pressure).
Still, it is hard to convince Momma that I am a Super Star because she is very stubborn.. the curse of Scottish blood. She says I am so vain that I should be doing a Novena, to beg for mercy because I am so conceited. Apparently vanity is one of the Seven Deadly Sins. I mean, private or public prayers repeated for nine successive days in belief of obtaining special intercessory graces. A bit harsh. I mean, we are not even Catholics.
Seal you a deal, Momma. I will be modest when you can come up with a better explanation the genesis of Hot Dog Cool Cats….
Till then, I am plastered all over your blog and too many websites to count, so I am a Super Star …Not What YOU Are. Deal with it!
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Response:
♥♥♥ the way you think….
The Super Star