It happened while the lovely Miss Sugar and I were in the hot tub. (This, by the way, is good writing technique, starting out with a sentence that captures the attention of the reading audience.)
The life of Beau, our male Yellow Lab, is of questionable value today. When I tell you why, you will likely agree that he should be disowned if not strung up.
Chris LeDoux wrote a song called This Cowboy’s Hat about the sacredness of one’s personal cowboy hat, including these words:
“You’ll ride a black tornado across the western skies
You’ll rope an ole blue northern and milk it till it’s dry
Bull dawg the Mississippi, pin it’s ears down flat
Long before you take this cowboy’s hat.”
Beau, living in the home of Chris LeDoux fans, has undoubtedly heard the song and, therefore, has been warned of the consequences of tampering with my favorite hat, pictured hereinafter.
I have treasured this hat for several years. It defined my public image. It made me who I am. Now, thanks to Beau, I am a lesser man who has lost my identity. See below:
After relaxing in the hot tub outside in the courtyard, I noticed that Beau had something in his mouth. It was unrecognizable at first. When I got it from him, I determined that it was my favorite cowboy hat. “Was” is indeed the operative word. It is no longer a hat, at least not a usable one. It has been utterly destroyed, along with my fragile self-esteem. A nearby photojournalist, Miss Sugar, got a picture of the usual suspect caught in the act of vandalism.
The culprit showed no remorse. Repentance is important for me to forgive. Beau wants to pretend nothing happened. There is, as therapists say, “an elephant in the room.” Beau does not want to talk about my hurt feelings. I feel disregarded. He feels just fine.
There is a lesson here. Always wear your cowboy hat in the hot tub.