Once upon a time there was a little girl named Spot. She was a huge bitch--a Saint Bernard, to be exact. She loved her job as a rescuer on a mountain in Switzerland, but most of all she loved the brandy they strapped to her neck to help warm up the folks in need of rescue. She usually drank it all before they got there, but no one noticed. Life is pretty good when you're a drunk dog. So, she laid in front of a warm fireplace, licking herself and lolling in a drunken haze all winter, with the occassional rescue to dispell her boredom. She loved these silly humans who thought they were so important and smart. She wondered why they thought that, since she was the one who was pampared and lazy and had not a care in the world. She would put all her effort into rescuing the ones they instructed her to, because it was fun--an adrenaline rush--but she didn't really think it was a worthwhile venture. They usually came back broken and damaged and rather useless, in her eyes.
One day as Spot was warming by the fire after a particularly lengthy and dangerous rescue, the little bell on the front door to the lodge rang, signalling a new arrival. She was only vaguely aware of that bell, as it never meant anything to her, except more possible rescues. Her big beautiful head lifted from its resting place on her paws as a scent reached her nose...an intoxicating, earthy smell...could it be? Her eyes found the source of the drifting scent, and her heart began to race. Through her foggy tunnel vision, her ears picked up the conversation of the humans.
"Good to see you, Bart! How was the drive up?"
"Oh, fine, it was fine. Henri and I are just glad to be here. With the grand re-opening party all week, you could do with an extra rescue dog."
"yeah, you know those celebrities--bad skiiers!" And they both chuckled.
Their conversation continued, but Henri had picked up a scent as well. He followed his nose to the great stone hearth, where there lay a beautiful sight. they sniffed each other and the rest is history (in other words, much humping ensued).
Okay, so my kids are crying and i can't concentrate anymore. maybe i'll write more later. grrrrr.