Misery Loves Company

Chester here with yet another issue.

Spring was ushered in what, maybe like 3 weeks ago? It sure hasn't seemed like it. We've had a bushel basket full of wet, cold, wind- and Wednesday it even snowed. By any stretch of the imagination, I am not a dog to lay around, smoking cigarettes, and eating bon-bons in fuzzy pink slippers. Nope, not me. I'm all about racing to the next adventure, ears and tail flapping blatantly in the wind. Sighhhhhhhh..............it's starting to get me kinda depressed.



Now before I lead you astray thinking that I mind the non-spring like weather, that is not the case. In fact, I enjoy flattening my belly on a cold slab of frozen tundra. The problem I'm having is that my favorite sport is suffering from lack of participants. Yep, those ground piggies I so enjoy hunting are for the most part staying tucked tightly into their underground lairs. So what's a groundhog hunting extraordinaire to do when the groundhog community is on strike?

As much as I hate to admit it, the couch with it's splendiferous view of the TV has held my attention here of late. Not the riff-raff of prime time, mind you. But old movies have drawn me in like a mosquito to a swamp full of murky water. Butch Cassidy with his Sundance Kid, James Bond's Goldfinger, Paul Newman as Cool Hand Luke all have kept my attention while the winter winds have kept my furry friends hidden.

So this brings me to a very disturbing part of my story. My mood being as it was, I did not feel in sync with the lightness of a family friendly comedy such as "Yours, Mine and Ours" with Lucille Ball and Henry Fonda.

As I scanned the movie guide I came across "Misery" with Kathy Bates and James Caan. Now I had seen it before but feeling the way I did it was just what I was looking for. The story line built as I was on the edge of my seat, paws half covering my eyes, scared to watch what I knew was coming. The hobbling scene where Annie breaks Paul's legs.

What!!! My paws flew from my eyes - I had never noticed this before. I could have sworn she used a large hammer. I had to download this picture just so you would believe me. It's Mr. Stick! This goes to show that Sola was not his first victim. He had broken bad before. Were his parents hardheaded and rough on him when he was just a twig? Are they the ones that made him feel lifeless and wooden? Did they splinter his identity, sending him down the wrong path?

Or could it be that the paper being pulled through Paul's typewriter and being slammed by it's keys was a by-product of his parents and his great love for them now has driven him with a vengeance to slay Authors and their families worldwide?



We may never know or understand what goes on behind those googly eyes. I just know that I have no sympathy for him and I'd love to rake him through the mud for what he has done to Sola.

Woofs and miserable slobbers,
Chester