Sept. 12, P.S. from Louie, Day 93


Mom says you won’t be able to read this until you get home, but I gotta tell ya now before it gets pushed outta my grasshopper-size brain by other stuff.

I got in a fight at the dog park!

‘N’ it’s ALL MOM’S FAULT — ‘cuz of her cheatin’ heart (sniff)!

We was strollin’ the perimeter, snufflin’ at many intriguin’ old piles of poop (humans has gotten quite lazy about pickin’ up after their dogs, let me tell you) ‘n’ just enjoyin’ the satisfyin’ sunshine when suddenly we was accosted — ACCOSTED, I tell you! — by a coupla golden retrievers. 

One of ’em cut me off from Mom, ‘n’ the other one started sniffin’ uninvited at Mom’s butt.

Well, I didn’t appreciate that none, but I kinda had my paws full with my own retriever, but in between dodgin’ his nips ‘n’ slobbers, I TOLD Mom, “Slap his snout! Slap his snout! He’ll go away!!!!”

‘N’ if she’d only LISTENED to me, there woulda been no trouble, ‘cuz every dog knows, someone slaps your snout, you stop whatever annoyin’ thing you’re doin’ ‘n’ go away.

‘Cept Mom, the traitor, just cooed at her assailant, ‘n’ instead of slappin’ him silly, she leaned over ‘n’ — oh, Pops, I can hardly bring myself to tell you this — she NUZZLED that boy behind his EARS ‘n’ give him a hug!!!!

Well, gosh darn it, my Mom don’t nuzzle ‘n’ hug NOBODY but ME (‘n’ maybe you, but not so much you lately) ‘n’ I couldn’t help myself, Pops. A blindin’ rage come over me, ‘n’ I swatted my own assailant outta the way, ‘n’ I CHARGED the pillager huggin’ Mom’s thigh, ‘n’ my fangs was bared ‘n’ my throat was growlin’ ‘n’ my shoulders was swelled in a great angry hump ‘n’ I kicked him right through the uprights!

Field goal for Louie!!!!!

‘N’ the crowds cheered! ‘N’ confetti rained down on my head from the trees!

‘N’ that insolent puppy slunk away to the lockerroom, humiliated by the home opener.

Well, Mom was quite annoyed at me for creatin’ a fuss over a friendly little dog (friendly, my butt!!!!) ‘n’ I was quite annoyed at her for flirtin’ with him so audaciously, right in front of my eyes, ‘n’ we both come home in a snit. ‘N’ it’s only ‘cuz there’s a plate of leftover chicken in the ice box that I’m even TALKIN’ to her right now.

Such betrayal!

Such public misbehavior!

Pops, this may have warped my whole outlook on life.

So come home quick so’s we can talk this over man to man.

‘N’ don’t you go listenin’ to Mom’s side of the story first.

Your indignant,


P.S. Say, Pops, you bringin’ home any MEAT from California?????

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, you are and always will be the WBD in Mom’s eyes, so don’t be worryin’ about her nuzzlin’ another retriever. Besides, she probably saw a little of you (after all, Lou, you are a retriever) in the other dog and her show of affection really was for you!

P.S. Ain’t no meat in California, Lou. It’s the land of sprouts and something call toe-foo, which you wouldn’t like at all. You would have to convert to veganism, my boy, and you’ll just have to ask Mom to explain that to you.
Published in: on September 13, 2010 at 11:26 am  Leave a Comment  

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