Hello everyone. This is The Daily Bone and I'm your doggie reporter Chester L. W. Spaniel.
As you can see, we had a very sunny and warm day, uncharacteristic of the usual cold wintry weather of this time of year in Western New York.
Other than that, there has been nothing more exciting happening around here. So I took a look back at some previous posts from the last few years on this date, and found this gem from 2014 entitled, "Oh Lamentations" that tickled my funny bone.
Here it is, word for word:
Greetings and good evening my hale, and noble readers! This is The Daily Bone (aka: The Recurring Ossified Structural Component) and I am your humble doggie host Chester L. W. Spaniel. Having recently perused new tome by author Stephen R. Donaldson, I have gleaned a multitude of wondrous new vocabulary words. My most loyal and enthusiastic followers are well aware of my penchant for innovative language. I am thus challenged to put these words to good use, and hope to be neither bombastic, tedious, nor long-winded.
In the caliginous twilight typical of this northern clime, spanning from winter solstice to vernal equinox, I am much aggrieved to have misplaced an eldritch squeaky ball of great value. It is with a monumental amount of self-objurgation that I admit to having been absent minded to the placement of said squeaky ball, when I was interrupted from my scouting mission by a lone pedestrian who happened to wander along the pathway in front of my vast demesne, to whom I gave forth a stentorian warning. Then, to my utter dismay, I perceived that the mantle of gelid and clinquant snow had swallowed the precious orb without a trace. Upon requesting assistance of my erudite canine associate, Joseph (Joey dog) Spaniel, I was given a lugubrious frown, and an asseveration that the object of my desire was indeed effectively hidden, and would probably not appear again until the onset of Spring. Despite the exigency of the situation, I was summoned to return to the shelter of my humble abode, where I paced in mounting worry and misery to the point of total prostration.
Oh woe is me! My most excellent and treasured prize, you are but a lambent eidolon to my aching heart, forever lost in the pellucid drifts of frozen water vapor. But my unquenchable and stalwart friend, Joey dog, upon reconsidering his previous doubt, attempted to be somewhat of a salvific to my lamentable plight. He assured me that, considering the characteristic ebb and flow of cold air to this region, there will soon be a thaw, and my beloved squeaky ball will be uncovered in all its delightful charm. In the meantime, we will endeavor to discover it with the puissance of our canine sense of smell. If all else fails, I should just take a chill pill.