My Aunt Joanne used to have a dog, Duke, who loved to be vacuumed. It helped that Duke was totally deaf. Since he couldn't hear the vacuum, he just loved the suction. And he was the kind of dog who got thick in the weeds; his fur was full of prickers and stray twigs.
Being deaf was no hindrance for Duke, but it was a great inconvenience for everyone around him. More than once, drivers would come along the dirt road that Aunt Joanne lived on at the time (Bible Hill Road in Hillsboro, New Hampshire) and see Duke lying in the middle of the road, fast asleep. They'd hit their horns. Duke would not stir a hair.
Naturally, they thought Duke was dead. So, they'd trudge, heavy-hearted, to the nearest house, which belonged to my Aunt. They'd knock at the door, and when Aunt Joanne would bustle up, they'd tell her some version of "Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry, but your dog is dead in the middle of the road."
And she'd sigh, exasperated, and say "that lazy old devil. Just nudge him with your foot, and he'll move along."
The markets are pulling back this morning. Is it time to vacuum up the bargains?
Good luck and good trades this week.
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