Postcard from Ellie
I’m on my way to an important training today and looking forward to it—I think. It’s not a contest, so they don’t give ribbons, but whatever. I will have improved skills this spring, and expect more ribbons. Hollywood has still not contacted me, but I will have an important photo and bio being published in an important hound magazine . . . sometime next month.
Car rides always end with something good, but this is a long one. About two hours and there is talk of snow. Not good, but I will probably sleep most of the way. I don’t mind the cage. Its nice and secure . . . all belted in.
Smoothy will have the run of the house without me keeping an eye on him—for two days. I hope he doesn’t break anything. The houseman is at home but will probably be lost in the loft, drinking wine and trying to write a poem, or looking for a lost notebook. He must have at least fifteen of them, half filled with important notes he didn’t want to forget—but now he’s forgot where he wrote them. Humans—go figure.
Smoothy should be writing chapter 10 of ‘The Bitch From Borläng’, but it could go either way—he’s no Heming way, for sure.
Speaking of ways, I must be on mine. Time to go.
Catch you’re act later. (That’s Hollywood talk. I’m learning the lingo.)