Dogs Eye View Three, the final installment.

It has taken me until THANKSGIVING to get around to part three of my cottage tour.  So you all should be THANKFUL that it’s being posted at all, or at the very least, thankful that this is the last you’ll hear on the subject.

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Hey Buddy!  Somebody gave you a facelift!  Hmmm.  I almost didn’t recognize you with eyelashes.  That’s just weird.  So was that a present for your 70th birthday?  You look closer to 80.  I’m just sayin’.

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Funny looking seaweed, strange little fish.  Heading AWAY from the flu symptoms fridge magnet.  Where do these things come from?  And that lovely magnetic notepad that gets used once a summer, maybe.  Way more fun to write your grocery list on little scraps of paper that go mysteriously  missing.

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Help!  The ferris wheel stopped and I can’t get off!  Haha, just kidding, but this is still a scary spot.  These mugs have been hanging here on this little seventies mug rack for eons.  They change locations randomly and collect dust.  And that’s about the sum total of their usefullness, or lack thereof.  They were a gift from somebody.  No one remembers exactly who, or why, or when.  Or what  the hell they were thinking.

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Ewww.  Can anyone say nauseous?  Drinking rum from a plastic tumbler while putting together a castle puzzle on a sunflower tablecloth.  Some humans have a really bizarre sense of fun.

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I am precariously perched atop this brittle plastic letter, note and memo holder that’s gotta be older than dirt.  To my knowledge it has never held notes, memos or mail since it’s arrival.  It does, however, keep some big honkin’ ugly glasses safe from whatever big honkin’ ugly glasses need to be kept safe from.  Once or twice someone has picked a pair up, gazed for a moment in stunned amazement, and then plunked them back into their little slot.  No one would dream of taking this thing down and throwing it away because looking for homes for these optical appliances would be just too stressful an undertaking.  So it stays.  And the glasses stay with it.

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Final stop on my way back to the overhead shelf.  All this tripping about has made me long for my own nice little safe spot.  Glad I don’t share it with a snotty elf  perched on a teapot  that should be in a museum.  Or at least polished once every 40 years.   The wine glasses are of the current century but that creepy little basket – maybe not.  Then there’s that strange green glass mini goblet lurking in the shadows.  I just don’t know what to say, except that my little chickens are looking better and better all the time.

That’s it.  I’m done.  Back to the top shelf and a long winters nap, undisturbed for another year.  Or maybe forever.  It’s hard to say.

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