Duchess the Wiggly-Waggly Dog

I grazed, gobbled, and gorged, the gratifying snack. Duchess hurried back from her hunt of the day and I held my hand over my head. My clothes were ripped from the roll down the hill and my face was royal blue from my ravishing rampage of the blueberry bush. Duchess grinned as her tongue hung to the ground. She had forgotten about all the scolding, sour looks, and long-winded speech that day. Thoughts of the crashing crystal vase were censored away. Fantasies of the forlorn, Food tray was forever forsaken. Cast aside was the crumbled cookies, coffee grounds, and cans. She gave no more meditation of the munching mouse or the maniacal madness of Dad. She didn’t even remember destroying the dashboard of Dad’s darn darling car.