What’s happened to Civil Servitude? Where’s the latest cartoon? What the hell’s going on?! Is Miller on strike?
These questions and many others have been posed to us here at Jackson Press, as realization that no new Civil Servitudes have shown up in a while begins to mount. Some of you may not have realized this yet – we forgive you for the inattention.
Our last Civil Servitude was posted June 30 and we just haven’t felt like doing any more here lately. Call us lazy, call us slackers, call us all of the above. We’re calling it a “holiday”, like those fine people in Europe might say, or perhaps you could say we’re on “hiatus”, or that we’ve been “hi-jacked”, or maybe we’re “hacked” or “harvested”; just pick your favorite “H” word that’s a synonym for “lazy.”
It’s summertime and we just haven’t felt like working – at work, at home, on the strip. And with all the projects we’ve got lined up here at Jackson Acre, like our drainage project and fixing up the front porch and probably one or two other projects I haven’t discovered yet, I just don’t have enough energy to work on any new strips. Plus, I’m trying to catch up on some reading that I haven’t had time to do, which has inspired me to do some more writing, which means I don’t have enough time to draw the strip and, well, you get the general idea. Tough it out and quit whining.
And then there’s Daisy, our slightly new, ever rambunctious and louder-than-Ginger puppy. Right now she’s bouncing around Ginger, who’s chewing contently on a chewie, and Daisy’s barking her fool head off, intent on getting Ginger’s chewie. Ginger’s already snapped at her once, so Daisy learned enough to know not to actually touch Ginger’s chewie.
So now she just bounces around Ginger and barks, which is really more of a yap, with an occasional growl thrown in for good measure. The stupid dog’s not content to chew on one of the other six chewies strewn about the room. No, she’s gotta have Ginger’s chewie.
There’s a fly in the house and it just buzzed Ginger. She stops chewing to hunt for the bug, stalking it like she would a bird, a really tiny, little bird. Daisy takes the opportunity to snatch Ginger’s chewie while Ginger hunts. For the moment Daisy’s now content and Ginger doesn’t care about who has what chewie.
This uneasy peace lasts all of twenty-three seconds, and then Ginger decides she wants her chewie back. She takes it from Daisy and the lunatic yapping begins anew.
Then Holly comes out and chastises me and the girls for not putting a stop to Daisy’s insanity. Holly’s been reading Cesar Millan’s “Dog Whisperer” books, about how to be a better pack leader to your dogs. Or how to just be a pack leader, in situations where your dogs rule the roost. Cesar has given Holly all kinds of new ideas on how to properly control the canines running amok here at Jackson Acre.
Holly immediately puts the kibash on Daisy, asserting her alpha female dominance and putting the yappy little beast back in her place in the pack. Then Holly puts the kibash on the girls and I and puts the rest of us in our place in the pack.
And I, the only male here at Jackson Acre, among three women and two bitches, certainly know my place in the pack. It’s somewhere at the back. Way at the back.
The only thing the last sled dog smells are the butts ahead!
