Word: dogged
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...coming from U.S.A. Track and Field headquarters in Indianapolis, Ind., because the four sprinters charged with using steroids supplied by the Bay Area Laboratory Cooperative (BALCO), including Jones' boyfriend, 100-m world-record holder Tim Montgomery, didn't qualify for the Olympic team. Yes, doping continues to dog the sport of track and field; on three straight days during the trials, new cheating accusations arose. And untarnished veterans, like hurdler and former Olympic sprinting champion Gail Devers, 37, and 110-m hurdles gold medalist Allen Johnson, 33, will make a last stand for the oldheads...
Governor Bush's brother George W. faced serious credibility issues when it was disclosed that the animal he had described as his and wife Laura's new cat is actually a dog. Insiders claim that the President's mislabeling of his pet was the handiwork of White House political guru Karl Rove. With America's population of cat owners far exceeding that of dog owners, Rove is said to have advocated the nomenclatural switch as a slam-dunk means of expanding Bush's national support base in an election year. The President's insistence on patting his golden retriever...
...pull vis and turn vis. Eezy. Got it?” I didn’t at all, but was too scared to ask questions, and at this point I hadn’t even almost killed his dog yet.) After several futile attempts I finally remembered the candles and contented myself with those...
...back to the car a cattle dog straight from a bag of hearty pup chow approaches me with a ball in his mouth. “That’s Rico!” He growls if I try to take the ball and I struggle for a while to figure out what he wants, discovering finally that if I pick up a stick he immediately drops the ball and comes running for me, and vice versa. Silly Rico, always wants what he can’t have. I know the feeling, buddy...
...dog back home, a thoroughly spoiled English cocker spaniel, doesn’t play fetch (I like to think it’s because she’s too smart, and not because I was too lazy to train her) so this keeps me fascinated for about 45 minutes, after which the dog collapses, panting and exhausted, on the grass. I imagine trying to tell Booker, already displeased with my ignorance of fishing, that I had killed his dog...