The Pup Crawl

With apologies to Lord Tennyson, in the spring a young Tibetan warrior's fancy lightly turns to, well, thoughts of a nip of the grape. Love? Bah! Two paws of single malt, now you're talkin'!

And so the boys loaded up for a . . . ROAD TRIP!!! That being said, about all they could put together was a couple of gallons of petrol. So they were limited to friendly confines of River City. No worries. This was the night of the annual Pup Crawl. There would be drinking, dancing, howling at the moon and the ceremonial wearing of the lampshade.

Each loaded up their travel humidor with their favorite maduros and hit the road. The mayor drew the short scoobie and had to drive. Good thing. Some of these other characters get rather reckless when the party lamp is lit. The only cause for concern is Wickie's personal disdain for windshields. He'd rather put his chops into the wind. Try staying in your lane with your head out the window :-P

All went well. No one landed in the dog house and there were only a few minor injuries when they encountered some cats having a séance in the middle of the street attempting to channel Morris. Mostly, there were bloodshot eyes, excessively wet noses and long periods of uninterrupted sleep.

Days later, when the boys recovered, they were on the twilight bark, calling for the hair of the dog.