Last Refuge of a Scoundrel

Maggie, the superannuated dog who normally just mopes around these days, was going nuts last night over by the Bradford pear tree. Jumping, snarling, hackles straight up. We haven’t seen behavior like this since the last time my ex sister-in-law came to dinner.

Getting up from the dinner table to investigate, I found ole Possum hiding behind the flag. Sort of a metaphorical tea partier I guess.

You've Been Flamingoed

Out for a bike ride in the neighborhood on Sunday we ran across this tableau. The sign says "You've been flamingoed" but gives no hint of who has been flamingoed by whom or why.

One supposes that when one has been flamingoed, one knows perfectly well who did it and why. No explanation is due to others.