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Post by Nemesis on Dec 10, 2010 15:05:21 GMT -5
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”What do you do with a drunken sailor? What you do with a drunken sailor!”
..She was not blessed with the most beautiful of voices. Armada felt the twitch in her throat as she hit a sour note, but forced threw it and continued a raucous, jaunty tune. She sang in tempo with her heavy trot, so the rhythm of the shanty changed along with her speed- faster as she moved with interest toward some sparkling object, slower when she paused to sniff an innocuous spot on the ground. Without a particular destination, there was no urgency or purpose in the things she did. If there was random provocation to some interest, she seized on it, or moved in a large circle, or sat and washed herself. This was a dog with no better goal than a fat belly and a cool breeze, with no great fears and very few ”minor concerns”, with lolling tongue and disquiet fur and mud caked between her toes.
”What do you do with a drunken sailor ear-lie in the morning?”
The retrievier did have an unconscious orientation, mostly related to her desire to remain by the water. She kept it at her left, and though occasionally it fell from her sight she was never out of range of the somewhat sour smell and reassuring drip-drip of the river
Not finished yet! =O
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