The joys of subterranean rodents

Gawd! I'm sorry to be here so late in the afternoon, but I've been chasing gophers all day. The trouble with gophers is that when ya start chasing one of 'em, the entire pestiferous colony full of 'em begin to tag-team each other. Being a doggy sort, and prey to certain counter-productive and inefficient doggy instincts, I eventually end up exhausted and confused, tongue lolling, as I sit atop the latest hole into which one of the perfidious little stinkers has dived, after being smoked several dozen times in quick succession. It's great fun for awhile, but eventually I have to stop, worn out by the exercise and the lack of success. Not sure why I persist. Maybe I just think gopher would taste good. Lack of personal evidence today notwithstanding...

However, I'm not too far gone, not to notice that after the m*se mentioned in today's otherwise-unremarkable posting that she might go to WestFest, evild'er pounced on it, well, like a coyote chasing a gopher. That faux-new-age type is in hot pursuit. If 5M's got an iota of smarts, she won't answer him. Not that it'll stop the callow twerp from attending, if he has any researching skill, but at least she can't be conned into giving him a description, meeting place & time, and other such impedimenta.

There being so little else in today's 5M post, I will pause here, and wish Conch Shell a fruitful quest after her long journey to the bottom of the sea. I hope she finds Painted Stick this time. And really, isn't anything possible in this wacky universe?

4th Dwarf, you may have mistakenly guessed from today's title that I would refer to you or your bretheren. Nothing could have been further from my mind. I hold dwarves in high esteem. I hold gophers, when I can actually lay paws on 'em, for ransom -- or lunch.