An Exercise in Futility

My dog General Sherman was mixing up a tomato cocktail this morning while Pooky-Bear was doing her morning kettlebell exercises.

”How do you think I’d look in a pair of those leggins’?” He asked me.

I could not help my wince. ”Like you need to get in there and swing that kettlebell some.”

The General swirled with his celery stick before having a sip. “Oh. Never-mind, then.”