Singing Horses
You control each horse by the series in which you click on and cursor over each horse.
Singing Horses
You control the tune by the series in which you click and cursor over the horses
The $10 dog
A guy is driving around the back woods of Montana and he sees a sign in front of a broken down shanty-style house: ‘Talking Dog For Sale ‘ He rings the bell and the owner appears and tells him the dog is in the backyard.
‘Yep,’ the Lab replies.
After the guy recovers from the shock of hearing a dog talk, he says ‘So, what’s your story?’
The Lab looks up and says, ‘Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA. In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping.’
‘I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running. But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn’t getting any younger so I decided to settle down.. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals.’ ’I got married, had a mess of puppies, and now I’m just retired..’
The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.
‘Ten dollars,’ the guy says.
‘Ten dollars? This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?’
‘Because he’s a liar. He never did any of that crap.
Things horses must remember . . .
I hope start what will be a continuing series of comments . . . your host and webmaster provides the following to get this thread of comments going:
- The water bucket is not someplace for me to drop my poops . . . floaties . . YUK!
- Don’t toss my head if I’ve been chewing green stuff with the bit in my mouth . . . YIKES. . . flying green bombs!
Things dogs must remember . . .
I will not play tug-of-war with Dad’s underwear when he’s on the toilet.
The garbage collector is NOT stealing our stuff.
I do not need to suddenly stand straight up when I’m lying under the coffee table.
I will scootch my bottom along the grass to rid myself of hangers-on.
I will not roll my toys behind the fridge.
I must shake the rainwater out of my fur BEFORE entering the house.
I will not drop soggy tennis balls in the underwear of someone who is sitting on the toilet.
I will not roll my head around in other animals’ poop.
I will not eat the cats’ food, before or after they eat it.
I will stop trying to find the few remaining pieces of clean carpet in the house when I am about to throw up.
I will not throw up in the car.
I will not roll on dead birds, seagulls, fish, crabs, etc.
I will not lick my human’s face after eating animal poop.
“Kitty box crunchies” are not food.
I will not eat any more socks and then redeposit them in the backyard after processing.
The diaper pail is not a cookie jar.
I will not wake Mommy up by sticking my cold, wet nose up her bottom end.
I will not chew my human’s toothbrush and not tell them.
I will not chew crayons or pens, especially not the red ones, or my people will think I am hemorrhaging.
When in the car, I will not insist on having the window rolled down when it’s raining outside.
We do not have a doorbell. I will not bark each time I hear one on TV.
I will not steal my Mom’s underwear and dance all over the backyard with it.
The sofa is not a face towel. Neither are Mom & Dad’s laps.
My head does not belong in the refrigerator, dishwasher or trashcan.
I will not bite the officer’s hand when he reaches in for Mom’s driver’s license and car registration.
I will not spend more than 5 minutes trying to find the “perfect” place to poop.
I will not eat other animals’ poop.
I will not take off while on leash to chase squirrels while Mommy is standing on a slippery grass slope.