shouting hallelujah

drshutterbug:

katherine:

For reasons best known to herself, my mother bought us this film on DVD, which John and I are watching now as we work on our computers. We pretty much can’t stop laughing. What were they thinking?

had you never seen Milo and Otis before? It was like my favorite movie next to Little Mermaid and Sound of Music when I was little. I watched it over and over again. But then I watched it when I was in high school and I realized it was kind of nuts.

I adored Milo & Otis when I was little, but John somehow missed out on the essential childhood experience, so I was educating him. But we re-watched it with a mix of horror (no way was it ok to do that to those animals!) and what my British friends call “broodiness”—longing to cuddle them critters. We didn’t make it all the way through, but till Milo met Joyce.

For reasons best known to herself, my mother bought us this film on DVD, which John and I are watching now as we work on our computers. We pretty much can’t stop laughing. What were they thinking?

Today Bonnie and I took our usual walk down Tennessee Street near Leon High, and as we crossed Franklin, Bonnie blithely slipped out of her collar, feinted toward oncoming traffic (four lanes, mind you), and took off down Franklin (which, by the way, lacks any kind of sidewalk or shoulder). Off I pounded, alternately shouting “Bonnie!” and “Oh my God!” I got close a couple of times, huffing and puffing and expecting with increasing dread to carry home a mangled dog, and when ever I got close, she’d just smile at me and take off once more. For anyone who doesn’t know, border collies are fast. It was with misery I took the turn around Call Street after her, only relieved to be comparatively safe in a residential area for the moment. She stopped beside a bush to toy with me, and, lo and behold! my hero approached. A guy with tall, mildly silly hair climbed out of his car and began corralling my terrible dog toward me, as I smiled weakly, leash hanging lamely in my exhausted hand. As he closed in on Bonnie, she gave one more rueful grin, and I sprung, head-locking her, shoving on her collar, and tightening it probably beyond the dictates of humane behavior. “Thank you,” I said to the mysterious boy as he walked back to his car and I dragged the dog off, both of us wheezing. “Thank you.”