June 29, from Louie, Day 26

Dear Dad,
My plans for the Great American Pee-In was derailed (most temporarily, I assure you) by that Black Bitch Lucy!
I spent ALL NIGHT drawin’ posters with Mom’s neon magic markers ‘n’ composin’ chants (“Heck, no, we won’t go!” ‘n’ “Love dogs, not hogs!” ‘n’ “Hey, hey, EPA, this is where we’ll pee today” — I especially like that one) ‘n’ I started hasslin’ Mom at the break o’ dawn to dig out my rainbow collar ‘n’ take me to the dog park. I had petitions for all the guys to sign, ‘n’ buntin’ for the ladies to drape over their shoulders, ‘n’ a bullhorn so’s I could shout directions ‘n’ keep everyone in line. I was plannin’ a most awesome demonstration, ‘n’ I was itchin’ to get to the dog park early. (Well, I mighta been itchin’ ‘cuz Mom’s almost outta crunchy wieners, too, but that only made my protest that much more important.)
Mom, who has been most lethargic lately, was very, VERY slow to wake up ‘n’ I  think she musta hit the snooze alarm a coupla gazillion times, but FINALLY she rolled outta bed, ‘n’ I was just jumpin’ outta my skin, waitin’ for her to perform her many mornin’ rituals so’s we could load up all my pee-in accoutrements in Mr. Rav. 
After an eternity ‘n’ way too many detours to the bathroom, she blinged me up, ‘n’ I dashed into Mr. Rav ‘n’ assumed the shotgun position — front paws firmly planted on the console ‘n’ snout plastered to the windshield so she couldn’t see nothin’, ‘n’ we was off!
Oh, Pops, my blood was boilin’ as we cruised down Memorial Parkway, ‘n’ I barked in lusty anticipation. THIS was the day us dogs was gonna make a major political statement.
‘N’ I was very, VERY excited to see a goodly number of cars parked in the lot as we turned into the dog park (where the sign is still restin’ in sad smithereens). We was gonna have a demonstration of epic canine proportions!
“Boys!” I shouted as I burst through the gate. “Lock ‘n’ load! There’s mischief afoot, ‘n’ we gotta take care of it!”
Well, all the regulars dashed over, ‘n’ since they was just as incensed as me over the nefarious assault against our dog park sign, they was all eagerly lappin’ up gallons o’ water so they’d be righteously fortified for a most astoundin’ pee-in. My heart just swelled with pride watchin’ ’em prepare, ‘cuz, you know, odds were, some of ’em wouldn’t be comin’ home. There’s DOG wardens out there at City Hall, ‘n’ it was a sure bet, some of us was gonna be busted.
But just as I was linin’ the guys up two-by-two to start our march, who charged us but THAT BLACK BITCH LUCY!!!!!!
‘N’ she was frothin’ at the mouth, Pops, let me tell you.
She darned near took a mouthful outta my left hip, ‘n’ then — THEN — she tried to chew a hunk outta Mom’s unprotected thighs. The boys is very brave, Pops, but the sight of her venomous attack was more’n’ even the regulars could take, ‘n’ they all scattered to the four corners of the park whilst Mom batted at that crazy Lucy with a loaded poop bag.
Well, Pops, I had no choice, did I? Mom was under attack, ‘n’ my prime directive while you’re gone is to protect Mom. So even though I knew it spelled the end of my hopes to avenge Akron’s dogdem, I gallantly put my peein’ on hold, ‘n’ I charged in to protect Mom’s pasty white nether regions.
Lucy’s human half-heartedly tried to call her off.
Mom just glared at him. “This is the second time your dog has attacked me ‘n’ my dog,” she said bitterly.
“Well, you must be carryin’ food in your pockets,” he said defensively.
“I don’t think so,” Mom said, ‘n’ she turned out her pockets to prove they was empty.
“Then you must be doin’ somethin’ to scare her,” he huffed.
Oh, please, I thought.
‘N’ even as I thought it,  the maniac Lucy made another run for Mom’s legs.
I couldn’t take it, Pops. There was just no call for that bitch to try’n sink her fangs into Mom’s hind quarters.
So I sadly — ‘n’ temporarily — gave up my career as a political protester, ‘n’ I bared my teeth, ‘n’ I growled, ‘n’ I snapped at that bitch until she got it through her stupid head that NO ONE GETS AWAY WITH SNARLIN’ AT MY MOM!!!!!!
She slunk away, but there was mad hatred in her eyes, ‘n’ I knew we wouldn’t be safe until we was back in Mr. Rav.
So even though Mom wanted to give that human holy heck for endangerin’ the meek ‘n’ mild-mannered folks of the dog park, I wedged myself in between her ‘n’ sure destruction, ‘n’ I herded her outta the park before that mutt could draw blood.
“Oh, Louie,” Mom said as we meandered back to Mr. Rav, “I’m so sorry! I ruined your pee-in!”
“You did no such thing, Mom,” I said gallantly. “It’s all that bitch’s fault. You did nothin’ wrong.”
“Louie,” Mom said, “you are a prince, ‘n’ I don’t know how I’d survive without you!” ‘N’ right there in the parkin’ lot, she give me a hug of magnificent proportions.
I was most flattered.
‘N’ it almost made up for the loss of my pee-in.
But, hey, tomorrow’s another day, ‘n’ maybe the black bitch won’t be lurkin’ in the park come mornin’, ‘n’ maybe I’ll still get a chance to organize my march on City Hall.
I regret the lost opportunity.
But family’s most important. Nothin’s more important ‘n protectin’ Mom.
Unless it’s protectin’ you.
Your faithful,

Pops replies:


Pops at work in the Stanislaus.

Oh, Louie, I am soooo proud of you. I realize your pee-in plans got dashed, but that was solely because of your prime directive. Yup, Mom would be lost without you.

P.S.  Here’s a photo of Pops at work.
Published in: on June 30, 2011 at 1:51 am  Leave a Comment  

June 28, from Louie, Day 25

Dear Dad,
We have been victimized by an outrageous slur against all of Akron dogdem, ‘n’ I am incensed, I tell you, just INCENSED!!!!
We was slowin’ down for the turn to the dog park this mornin’, ‘n’ me ‘n’ Mom just couldn’t believe our eyes.
The most lovely wooden sign advertisin’ the park (‘n’ personally signed by Mayor Don) had been SMASHED into a gazillion pieces.
“WTF?????” I howled in anguish.
‘N’ Mom was so shocked by the devastation, she didn’t even scold me for my potty mouth.
We immediately parked Mr. Rav ‘n’ hoofed it over to the scene of the crime, where I proceeded to sniff ‘n’ snort ‘n’ snuffle, lookin’ for clues. With my extensive federal trainin’, I was most hopeful of pickin’ up the trail of the vile perpetrators who defiled our sign, ‘n’ trackin’ ’em back to their hideout, where I intended to bash in their brains before arrestin’ ’em.  
But so many gawkers ‘n’ deer had trampled the scene, I was lost in a miasma of many, many foreign scents, ‘n’ I spun around in agitated circles, discombobulated on which way to go. North to Ontario? South to Buenos Aires? East to Luigi’s? I just couldn’t make up my mind.
“#($^*&$$&)#??!” I growled ‘n’ I pawed the ground.
“Louie,” Mom said as she tugged on my bling, “you gotta settle down!”
“I can’t help it, Mom,”  I sputtered, “this is — it’s a — it’s a %)^*$^&# hate crime!” ‘N’ I pawed the ground in my extreme frustration.
“Now, Lou,” Mom said, “we don’t know that. It coulda been nothin’ but a traffic mishap. Maybe some car just veered offa the road ‘n’ hit the sign by accident.”
I rolled my eyes. “You see any skid marks, Mom? Huh? Huh? Huh?”
Well, Mom allowed that there wasn’t no skid marks on the road nor tire tracks in the grass. “But it coulda just been some high school graduatin’ hooligans, out celebratin’ their newfound wisdom.” 
I just snorted. This was no run-of-the-mill act of vandalism, Pops. Someone DELIBERATELY destroyed the dog park sign, ‘n’ their ONLY purpose most assuredly was to send a message to us dogs: We are less than human. We are scum. ‘N’ they don’t want OUR kind in this town no more.
It was a HATE CRIME, Pops, as sure as I’m a deputized federal agent, ‘n’ me ‘n’ the denizens of the dog park won’t stand for it. We have just as much right as cats ‘n’ parakeets to live here in Akron, ‘n’ by golly, we aren’t gonna be intimidated by no sign-bustin’ perverts.
So I’m gonna have to cut this letter short, ‘cuz I’m gonna be up many, MANY hours yet, writin’ letters of protest to the SPCA ‘n’ the ACLU ‘n’ the FBI ‘n’ the ATF ‘n’ the CSI. I’m gonna contact my Congress Canine ‘n’ get him on board, ‘n’ tomorrow  I’m gonna organize all the boys at the park, ‘n’ we’re gonna have a pee-in at City Hall.
‘Cuz if we let this one slide, who knows WHAT they’ll attack next?
Oh, good golly, Pops, the WESTMINSTER DOG SHOW!!!!!
Gotta go, Pops. Gotta go go go!
I’m on a mission!

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, when you do the pee-in at City Hall, make sure you call the newspaper and arrange for photos. This I want to see. Westminster? Doubtful, but, just to make sure, keep on with your investigation.

Pops is stopped by cows in the road. Just like in Ireland!

P.S. . Speakin’ of photos, I was on a top-secret federal mission on Monday and my progress was impeded by three cows. I really needed you, Lou. It seems these cows wanted to either be herded or led. Either way, they wouldn’t leave the road. I was wishin’ you were with me, Louie, because you could have herded them off the road, just like the workin’ dogs in Ireland.

Published in: on June 29, 2011 at 1:42 am  Leave a Comment  

June 27, from Louie, Day 24

Well, Pops, I taught Mom a most valuable lesson this mornin’, most valuable.
We started the day with a tolerable hike around the Oxbow ‘n’ up to the Overlook. The sky was sunny ‘n’ the breezes was most pleasant, ‘n’ I had a lovely time sniffin’ at the ivies ‘n’ poopin’ here ‘n’ there. We didn’t scare up any bear or deer — truth be told, we didn’t even see a chipmunk — but I got to stretch my many legs, ‘n’ more important, I didn’t embarrass Mom by humpin’ any creatures of the forest.
You could say I was on my good behavior.
So as a reward, Mom cranked down all o’ the windows in Mr. Rav, ‘n’ I stuck my snout into the wind as we cruised down Cuyahoga Street toward home.
Mom was jabberin’ about this ‘n’ that as she drove, ‘n’ I was howlin’ along with Bob Seger on the radio, but since I’m very good at multi-taskin’, I still had my eyes peeled (OUCH!) for intruders, ‘n’ my brain was tickin’ off all the checkpoints we passed. Red light at the school. Don’t turn on red. Stop sign at Mentor. Don’t drive through the stop sign. Check out Fat Annie’s house as we turn the corner. No nefarious messages in chalk.  Slow down at the circle. No deer munchin’ on the hostas. See, I was payin’ attention.
But Mom wasn’t. 
‘N’ that’s why when we turned into the driveway, I SAW THE BLACK CAT FIRST!
Mom didn’t have a chance.
A mighty growl welled up in my throat, ‘n’ I lunged at the back window!!!!!
I was gonna have black cat for lunch!
Mom squawked loudly at the sudden crisis ‘n’ slammed on the brakes. ‘N’ just when I was pushin’ off with my back legs ‘n’ squirtin’ through the window, she reached around ‘n’ grabbed my bling.
Oh, Pops, I almost made it. I could practically taste that black fur ticklin’ down my throat. My shoulders ‘n’ belly was hangin’ outta Mr. Rav, ‘n’ only my back toes was still inside the car. If Mom had been a split second slower, I’d’ve been chargin’ across the front yard ‘n’ pinnin’ that cat down amongst the azaleas, leavin’ many claw marks behind on Mr. Rav.   
You’d’ve been most proud.
Mom was most ticked off.
“DARN IT, Louie!” she howled. ‘N’ I think she wrenched her back holdin’ onto my bling whilst maneuverin’ Mr. Rav into the garage.
Well, quite against the odds, she managed to park Mr. Rav before I strangled to death on my bling, ‘n’ she scrambled outta the car ‘n’ lifted me off the back window before I could do serious damage to me or the paint job, ‘n’ she hustled me into the house before I could get a bead on the black cat ‘n’ rip it to shreds. I snorted indignantly at the effrontery of the black cat, sunning itself on MY driveway, ‘n’ I dashed to the front window so’s I could huff ‘n’ puff ‘n’ spray dog snot all over the glass.
The evil black cat got the message ‘n’ bolted down to the street, where I couldn’t see it no more. But I maintained my post at the window the rest of the afternoon, ‘cuz, gosh darn it, Pops, I’m a dog, ‘n’ no cat oughta be allowed to pollute my yard with its feline spores.
Mom just sank into her chair in exhaustion.
‘N’ the lesson she learned?
Never ever crank down Mr. Rav’s windows to the point where I can jump out.
Mom oughta thank me for furtherin’ her education.
Your resourceful,
P.S. Say, Pops, things aren’t goin’ so good with Uncle Bob. Maybe I oughta give Mom a break tomorrow ‘n’ act like a well-behaved dog.
Naw. That wouldn’t be no fun at all.

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, you are falling for the evil black cat’s taunts. Of course, it’s only natural for you. I understand, my boy. I understand.
Yup, perhaps you should be on your best behavior for the next few days. But, then again, your excellent adventures may be the only thing that’s keepin’ Mom from going totally bonkers. So, just keep doin’ what you do best. Just keep bein’ Louie.
Published in: on June 28, 2011 at 1:42 am  Leave a Comment  

June 26, from Louie, Day 23

Dear Pops,
I don’t know why Mom is so huffy. She TOLD me to go socialize.
So I did.
We was down at the dog park, ‘cuz it was kind of a dry mornin’ ‘n’ Mom figured there wouldn’t be no mud. ‘N’ she thought I might enjoy the opportunity to consort with the boys.
Well, I did, but after the first two trips around the fence, I was kinda tired of smellin’ the usual butts, so I sauntered up to a midsize black mutt I’d never seen before, ‘n’ he smelled kinda good.
So I humped him.
Mom stomped up behind me ‘n’ booted me off before I got any joy, ‘n’ she apologized most profusely to the dog’s humans. “He’s got no manners at all,” Mom said, ‘n’ she shooed me across the field.
Well, OK, she didn’t want me datin’ the black mutt, I could live with that. It was Sunday mornin’ ‘n’ there was many MANY other dogs to investigate.
Which I did. Most enthusiastically whilst Mom wasn’t lookin’.
But then when she was half a park away, I cornered a white ‘n’ tan mongrel ‘n’ proceeded to be a dog.
“Oh, now, that’s rude,” one lady human said.
“DIS-GUST-IN’!” another lady agreed.
“Boy’s got good rhythm, though,” one of the male humans observed.
” ‘N’ stamina,” his pal agreed.
I grinned my appreciation ‘n’ revved it up a notch. After all, if you got an audience —
“LOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Mom howled from across the park. “STOP! STOP! STOP!!!!” ‘N’ faster’n a speedin’ bullet, she leapt over tall buildin’s in a single bound ‘n’ landed with both feet on my butt ‘n’ shoved me offa my newfound friend.
“Your dog is revoltin’,” one of the ladies said.
“But energetic,” one of the men said.
“You coulda yelled at him,” Mom huffed as she grabbed my collar.
“Not our dog,” they all agreed, ‘n’ the ladies all breathed a sigh of relief ‘n’ the men compared notes as Mom hauled me to the gate ‘n’ out to Mr. Rav.
Well, I was struttin’ pretty tall, Pops, PRETTY TALL, so I barely listened while Mom was yammerin’ at me about my questionable upbringin’ ‘n’ lack of delicate behavior. ‘N’ she’s STILL yammerin’.
Oh, pfft.  She needs to get over it.
‘N’ I need a nap.
For some reason, I’m really, REALLY tired.
Your boy,

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, you are, indeed, my boy.
Published in: on June 26, 2011 at 1:17 pm  Leave a Comment  

June 25, from Louie, Day 22

Dear Dad,
I am bored, bored, BORED!
‘N’ it’s all that Mom’s fault!
She has been neglectin’ me something fierce the past few days, in ways too shockin’ to number.
Oh, I still get two big bowls of food every day, ‘n’ most days, they’re drippin’ with luscious enhancements. (This evenin’, for example, my Kibbles was burstin’ with the last chunks of ham from our ham ‘n’ green beans ‘n’ potatoes — yum!)
‘N’ she still treats me with Milkbones ‘n’ chunky wieners. (‘Cuz, of course, I DESERVE them.)
‘N’ she still takes me on my three-a-days, although on account of the drippy weather, they haven’t been very long nor creative hikes. This mornin’ I had to settle for the Towpath down to the Mustill Store ‘cuz the GOOD trails was all caked in mud, ‘n’ though I consider that quite allurin’, Mom’s too afraid of slippin’ ‘n’ breakin’ an ankle out in the wilderness. She is SUCH a wimp!
So we been hikin’ right on schedule, but the rest of the time, her mind just hasn’t been focused on me like it ought.
Take this mornin’, before our mediocre hike. The squawk box started squawkin’, ‘n’ Mom crawled outta bed, ‘n’ she toddled off to the kitchen ‘n’ left me behind, totally forgettin’ to give me my mornin’ belly rub. Now you KNOW I gotta have my mornin’ belly rub if I’m gonna start the day on my right feet. So I pouted on the bed ’til she noticed I was missin’, ‘n’ then she guiltily toddled back to bed ‘n’ give me a perfunctory rub here ‘n’ there. But it wasn’t nearly as vigorous as it oughta been.
‘N’ in between our three-a-days, she just DISAPPEARS!
This mornin’ after the Towpath, she immediately hopped into Mr. Rav — without ME — ‘n’ even though it was way too early yet for that Evil Work Place, she took off ‘n’ left me all alone for many, many hours. I was most despondent. So when she finally come home, I slobbered her with many joyous kisses, ‘n’ she responded by takin’ me on a double walk around the neighborhood. My spirits rose. I pooped twice! I was positive Mom was back to her normal Louie-is-the-center-of-the-world self.
But then she pulled off my bling ‘n’ immediately dashed all my hopes by grabbin’ her lunch bag ‘n’ disappearin’ in Mr. Rav — AGAIN!!!!
‘N’ she was gone all afternoon ‘n’ evenin’, ‘n’ it was most, most dark when she finally dragged herself in the back door.
This time I withheld my slobbery kisses, ‘n’ she sorta got the message. She IMMEDIATELY took me on my Midnight Stroll, but I was so bummed out from spendin’ so many hours alone, I refused to poop.
So she relented ‘n’ give me my luscious ham dinner, ‘n’ I wagged my tail, thinkin’ all was finally well. But then she said, “Louie, you gotta hurry up ‘n’ write to Dad so’s we can go to bed.”
“But, Mom,” I said in disappointment, “aren’t we gonna play tag first?”
“Can’t, Lou,” Mom said. “I’m too tired.”
I playfully nudged her thigh. “How about some hide’n’seek Mom? Huh? Huh?”
“Nope, Lou,” Mom said, “I am WAY too tired.”
“I know!” I said, ‘n’ I galloped to the bathroom ‘n’ yanked a mouthful o’ towel off the rack. “Let’s play Laundry Games!”
“Laundry is no game,” Mom snapped, quite unlike herself, ‘n’ she tugged the towel outta my mouth. “We’re goin’ to bed, so write your Dad ‘n’ get it over with!”
Whoa! That was MOST harsh.
So here I am, writin’ my letter, ‘n’ Mom is standin’ behind me, irritably tappin’ her foot ‘n’ watchin’ the clock.
I just don’t unnerstand what’s got into her, Pops, but she is blatantly violatin’ the spirit if not the letter o’ my contract. If things don’t change around here, real fast, I’ll have no choice but to call in my union rep. ‘N’ you know what that means.
Yep, bindin’ arbitration. 
I’m countin’ on you to show Mom the error of her ways.
Otherwise, me ‘n’ the boys from the park is settin’ up a picket line.

Your most dissatisfied,

Published in: on June 26, 2011 at 12:27 am  Leave a Comment  

June 24, from Louie, Day 21

Dear Pops,
This is gonna be a SHAMEFULLY short letter, ‘cuz what with Mom’s many absences the past few days, I got only three things to tell you.
3. There isn’t just ONE evil black cat in the neighborhood. There’s THREE (which Mom says ‘xplains why we’re always runnin’ into the gosh-darned creature, no matter what route we take). We was takin’ our Pre-Work Walk, ‘n’ I was in a sudden frenzy of snarlin’ ‘n’ growlin’ ‘n’ tuggin’ at my bling, ‘cuz loungin’ on a driveway on Malvern was not ONE black cat, but TWO!!!!!
Well, Mom barely saved her arm sockets from THAT encounter when we turned the corner onto Eaglesnest, ‘n’ a THIRD black cat was crossin’ the road in front of us. Pops, them cats is reproducin’ like horny little bunnies. There oughta be a LAW against it.
Mom heartily agrees.
2. There isn’t just ONE St. Bernard in the neighborhood. There’s TWO!  On our Pre-Hospital Walk this mornin’ (a new addition to our walkin’ routine), once again on Malvern, we crossed to the other side o’ the road so’s the St. Bernard ‘n’ his human could pass us without nippin’ on my tail feathers, ‘n’ we landed in a yard where ANOTHER St. Bernard was chained to the fence post, growlin’ ‘n’ snarlin’ at us. We was like a dog sandwich, with St. Bernards to the right of us ‘n’ St. Bernards to the left, ‘n’ me ‘n’ Mom playin’ the role of the juicy meaty fillin’. I felt most hunted, Pops. I think them dogs was dreamin’ of Louie souffle for dinner.
1. Mom come home tonight from that EWP most dreadfully tired, so I promised her if she’d just take me for a Midnight Stroll, I wouldn’t do nothin’ shameful or stressful to her achin’ bones. ‘N’ I delivered, Pops. We trotted down to the end of the street ‘n’ back, ‘n’ ‘cept for a righteous poop in the yard at the Old Hiney Place, I didn’t do nothin’ to cause her pain or alarm.
But then we got home, ‘n’ Mom let me out back to amuse myself whilst she prepared my crunchy wieners, ‘n’ …..
A DEER was munchin’ on the ivy beyond the back fence!!!!!
Oh, Pops, I was so overjoyed, I charged the fence ‘n’ tried to scramble up ‘n’ over its many links so’s I could go leapin’ through the woods with that lovely, lovely doe! We coulda got all the way to Buffalo ‘n’ back if that darned fence hadn’t been in the way, ‘n’ after a romp like THAT, Mom wouldn’t’ve had to take me on a mornin’ hike for many, many days.
But, sadly, Mom dashed outside ‘n’ hauled me offa the fence before I could make my escape, ‘n’ the doe darted into the darkness without me. I protested mightily ‘cuz Mom wouldn’t let me go leapin’ with my distant relatives, but then she seduced me with vapors of wieners, ‘n’ I got distracted enough to run back into the kitchen ‘n’ snarf up my dinner, ‘n’ seconds later, when my food bowl was empty, I barreled outside ‘n’ the doe was gone.
I was most crushed.
But I am ever hopeful that she’ll be back in the mornin’, ‘n’ if I can just wade my way through all them evil black cats, we’ll be runnin’ 800-meter relays together ‘n’ settin’ new OHSAA records!
So with that in mind, I’m gonna go to bed now ‘n’ preserve my energies.
‘N’ maybe tomorrow I’ll qualify for the Olympics. Like Dave Wottle.
It’s always good to have new horizons, Pops. Remember that.

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, sometimes I think you are delirious when you write your nightly missives to Pops. But that’s OK. As long as you keep discoverin’ the wonders of the world in Louie-ville, that’s fine with me. Take care of Mom, Lou. She needs you most badly these days.
Published in: on June 25, 2011 at 1:12 am  Leave a Comment  

June 23, from Louie, Day 20

Oh, Pops, it’s been a MOST topsy-turvy day.
First off, Mom tucked me into bed last night before the sun even went to sleep, ‘n’ that was VERY disconcertin’.
‘N’ then, while I was still dreamin’ of t-bones ‘n’ bratwurst, the squawk box went off ‘n’ Mom leaped outta bed ‘n’ said, “Louie, time to get up!”
Well, I reluctantly pried open one eye ‘n’ gosh, Pops, it was black as night out. ‘Cuz it was STILL NIGHT!
“No malingerin’, Lou,” Mom said briskly. “Up! Up! Up! It’s time for your hike.”
“But Mom,” I whined, “I just got to sleep!”
” ‘N’ now it’s time to get up,” Mom said, ‘n’ she rolled me outta bed ‘n’ down the hall to the kitchen, where she blinged me up ‘n’ took me on a rip-snortin’ hike up ‘n’ down the many streets of our neighborhood — in the absolute total dark!
Well, I obliged by poopin’ here ‘n there, ‘cuz I never pass up a chance to poop, even if the roosters was still sleepin’, ‘n’ then Mom drug me home ‘n’ fed me a great big breakfast, ‘n’ as I was gulpin’ down the mornin’s helpin’ of crunchy wieners, she give me a big hug ‘n’ said she was off to Cleveland for Uncle Bob’s surgery, ‘n’ she was countin’ on me to amuse myself, ‘cuz it would be many many hours before she got home.
I tried to protest, but my mouth was full o’ meat, ‘n’ by the time I swallowed, Mom ‘n’ Mr. Rav was gone.
So I stoically manned my post — alone — in front of the window, ‘n’ I watched the newspaper arrive, ‘n’ I watched the sun rise, ‘n’ I watched all the neighbors drive off to their evil work places, ‘n’ I watched the lawn-mowin’ orcs descend with their dastardly machines, ‘n’ I watched all manner of juvenile delinquents cavort in the woods next door, ‘n’ I watched the mailman deposit many important letters in our box, ‘n’ I watched the black cat chase many chipmunks across our yard, ‘n’ I watched the sun creep slowly across the sky ‘n’ —
Mom didn’t come home.
‘N’ I began to develop a powerful urge to pee.
Well,  Pops, I really, really, REALLY wanted to call you ‘n’ demand that you come home ‘n’ let me out, but that connivin’ Mom took off for the hospital with the cell phone, ‘n’ I was stuck, with no way to call 911. So I sighed most pitifully ‘n’ crossed ‘n’ recrossed my many legs, ‘n’ stuck my snout to the window, sniffin’ despondently for a whiff of Mom ‘n’ Mr. Rav.
OK, I’m a federal agent, ‘n’ I been trained to endure trials ‘n’ tribulations that no human can withstand, but I gotta tell you, Pops, THIS agony was almost more than even I could endure. I was dangerously, DANGEROUSLY close to burstin’ all over the lovely tiles of the foyer when FINALLY I heard a most familiar growl comin’ from up the street ‘n’ —
Oh, YEEESSSSSSSSSSS! Just as the sun begin to set, Mom ‘n’ Mr. Rav turned into the driveway, ‘n’ I was in such a bad way, I wouldn’t even let Mom stop ‘n’ give me a hug. I pawed frantically at the back door ‘n’ Mom wisely flung it open wide, ‘n’ I dashed to the rose bushes ‘n’ peed for many MANY hours.
Gosh, but it felt good.
‘N’ then I give Mom holy what-for for her inhumane treatment, ‘n’ it was only after she described to me the dreadful torments that Uncle Bob had been put through all day that I relented enough to let her rub my belly. I guess she had good cause for leavin’ me alone so long, but I sternly lectured her that she must never EVER do that to me again. ‘N’ she wearily agreed.
So we’re friends again. ‘N’ she’s lookin’ so whupped, I might even let her go to bed soon herself without me tearin’ up any quilts to aggravate her.
But tomorrow, Pops, TOMORROW, it better be all about Louie.
Gosh darn it.

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, gosh darn, you certainly realize that everyday is “all about Louie.” That’s just the way it is on Canyon Trail. But, yesterday was a big exception and, Lou, you have a big, big heart to appreciate and understand all that your Uncle Bob’s had to endure. You’re the best, my boy.
Published in: on June 24, 2011 at 11:27 am  Leave a Comment  

June 22, from Louie, Day 19

I gotta write early ‘cuz I got somethin’ important to tell ya, ‘n’ I can’t write later ‘cuz Mom says we gotta go to bed early ‘cuz we gotta get up when we should be goin’ to bed on account o’ Uncle Bob, ‘n’ I just gotta tell ya!
We was walkin’ down Mardon on our mornin’ stroll ‘cuz it was lookin’ powerful mean out ‘n’ Mom didn’t wanna get drenched on the Towpath ‘n’ THERE IT WAS! RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SIDEWALK!!
A great big steamin’ pile of honest-to-goodness BEAR POOP!!!!!
Mom saw it first, ‘n’ creakily bent over to squint at it, but I didn’t haveta squint, ‘cuz I got a super sensitive dog nose, ‘n’ I knew IMMEDIATELY what it was. “Bear poop,” I breathed, ‘n’ my hackles shot way up ‘n’ my dumb ears flipped to the smart side, ‘n’ I danced in agitation around the pile, scanning the bushes ‘n’ trees ‘n’ garages for telltale hunks o’ nappin’ bear fur.
“Are you sure, Louie?” Mom asked, ‘n’ her tone o’ voice said she didn’t wanna go makin’ a fool of herself again, tellin’ everyone there was  bears in the valley.
“Positive, Mom,” I said, ‘n’ I sniffed hungrily at the wet breezes, tryin’ to get a fix on the burly marauders. They mighta went south, but it coulda been northwest. ‘N’ it smelled like two, but it coulda been seven. It’s hard to tell when there’s all them gasoline fumes litterin’ the street.
“Well, it does look mighty suspicious,” Mom agreed. “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much for dog poop.”
” ‘N’ not enough for elephants,” I said wisely.
Mom shuddered at the thought.
I wanted to scoop up the poop ‘n’ ship it off to Tommy Lee for analysis, but Mom put her foot down (but not in it) ‘n’ said no way was she scoopin’ up some other animal’s poop, not even for Tommy Lee. So we sadly left it behind, where I’m sure the rain has already washed away the evidence.
But the bears is back, Pops, ‘n’ that means one thing: I’m on red alert, ‘n’ as much as it pains me to say so, Mom’s gonna have to make the trip to the hospital for Uncle Bob’s surgery without me. National security is at stake, ‘n’ Mom will just have to suck it up ‘n’ take care of family business by herself. I’m on patrol, ‘n’ if that means I gotta go 10 or 12 hours tomorrow before I can pee, well, so be it.
The bears is back.
‘N’ Louie is watchin’.  
Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, Mom will be so proud of you if you stay on patrol for the next two weeks and allow her to take care of family business. You are, indeed, the World’s Best.


Published in: on June 22, 2011 at 7:44 pm  Leave a Comment  

June 21, from Louie, Day 18

Oh, Pops, I have most sorrowful news from the home front, MOST sorrowful.
Dingo of the Herniated Butt is dead!!!!
Whatever the heck THAT means.
We was down at the dog park this mornin’, ‘n’ Dingo’s dad was there with Buster ‘n’ Rascal ‘n’ that curly-haired dog he walks for his neighbor, but there wasn’t no Dingo squattin’ painfully in the grass, tryin’ most strenuously to poop. ‘N’ me ‘n’ Mom remarked that we hadn’t seen Dingo in the longest time.
His dad sighed heavily ‘n’ said, “I had to put the boy down.”
“Oh, no!” Mom gasped.
‘N’ I gasped, too, even though I didn’t have a clue what he meant. Just the way he said it sounded ever so awful.
“What happened?” Mom asked.
So his dad ‘xplained how one mornin’, everyone hopped outta bed like usual except for Dingo, who couldn’t stand up no more. He tried mightily, but he just couldn’t make his back legs do nothin’. “So I knew it was time,” his dad said, ” ‘n’ I took him to the vet ‘n’ they put him to sleep.”
Mom shook her head sadly ‘n’ offered her commiserations, ‘n’ since everyone was lookin’ so sad, I licked the old man’s hand, ‘n’ he patted my head. There was tears in his eyes.
But I wasn’t too clear on just what had happened to Dingo — other than he wasn’t staggerin’ around the perimeter, strainin’ his herniated butt. So when we got half a field away from Dingo’s dad, I said, “Um, Mom, what’s he mean, he put Dingo DOWN?????”
Mom sighed. “We need to have a talk, Lou.”
So she set herself down on a bench, ‘n’ since she was lookin’ so sad, I obediently followed her ‘n’ plopped my head in her lap ‘n’ looked up at her with my soulful brown eyes, ‘n’ waited for her to ‘xplain.
“You see, Lou,” Mom said, ‘n’ she tenderly scratched my ears, “when dogs get real old, their various parts — like their legs — stop workin’ right, ‘n’ they’re in terrible, terrible pain.”
“You mean like my pain in the butt?” I asked.
“Much worse than that,” Mom said gravely.
“Oh, wow,” I said, ‘cuz by my way of thinkin’, nothin’ has been more painful lately than my inflamed butt. I can’t imagine nothin’ worse.

” ‘N’ when a dog gets to the point where he’s in that much pain, all his bodily functions quit, ‘n’ the only right thing a good dog owner can do is put him to sleep,” Mom said.
“To sleep?” I asked, quite puzzled.
“Yes, Lou, to sleep,” Mom said, ‘n’ she sadly stroked my head. “A good owner puts her dog in a most comfy bed, gives him wonderful medicine to make all the hurts go away, ‘n’ he drifts off to sleep forever, to dream happily ever after of wieners ‘n’ hamburger grease.”
” ‘N’ that’s what Dingo’s dad did?” I asked, my voice quiverin’ a little.
“He did,” Mom said.
” ‘N’ Dingo’s never comin’ back?” I asked.
“No, never,” Mom agreed.
“He KILT DINGO!” I howled as the truth hit me. ‘N’ I spun around ‘n’ snapped at my tail in great agitation.
“No, no, no,” Mom said quickly. “He took away Dingo’s many hurts ‘n’ helped him to sleep in peace!”
Well, I was havin’ no part o’ that story, Pops, so I tore away from Mom ‘n’ fled across the field so’s I could pee ‘n’ poop while my astounded brain tried to process what Mom was tellin’ me. Dingo’s dad kilt him ‘n’ that was the right thing to do??????
But then Marley ‘n’ Jake caught up with me.
“You heard about Dingo?” Marley asked.
“It’s appallin’,” I said, thoroughly shaken.
“Better’n gettin’ hit by a car,” Jake said, ever practical.
“How could his dad DO that to him?” I demanded.
” ‘Cuz he loved him,” Jake said.
“NO!!!!” I protested.
“Oh, yeah,” Jake said.
‘N’ Marley nodded in agreement.
So while Mom paced fretfully around the park, me ‘n’ the boys had a good heart-to-heart talk, ‘n’ they ‘xplained to me how sleepin’ forever was really much better than hurtin’ forever, ‘n’ I guess after a while, I settled down. But I didn’t wanna have nothin’ to do with Dingo’s dad. It still seemed to me like he kilt the old boy, ‘n’ you know, Pops, maybe it wasn’t his time. His dad mighta been a little too hasty, don’t you think?
But I collected my wits enough to let Mom bling me up ‘n’ take me back to Mr. Rav.
‘Cept I couldn’t stop thinkin’ that maybe Mom was plannin’ to put me to sleep, too.
“Mom,” I asked fearfully as we turned onto Canyon Trail, “am I old?”
“You mean like Dingo?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, ‘n’ I braced myself for the terrible answer.
“Oh, Lou,” Mom said, “you’re just enterin’ the prime of your life. You got many, many years of adventures ahead of you!”
I snuffled my snout on her seat belt. ” ‘N’ you aren’t plannin’ to put me to sleep?” I asked.
Mom patted me with one hand while she drove with the other. “Oh, Lou, the LAST thing I’ll ever do is put you to sleep!”
‘N’ the sun come out from behind the clouds ‘n’ burst all over Mr. Rav.
Dingo of the Herniated Butt is dead, ‘n’ I will surely miss him.
But we have many, many adventures ahead of us, Pops. Mom said so.
‘N’ Mom never lies.
Your most faithful,

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, I watched a sad, sad movie last night. It was about a dog named Marley (no, not your buddy from down at the park). And so Marley got old and sick and he was hurtin’ real bad, so Marley’s Mom and Pops had to send him off to a forever place of constant wieners and hamburger grease. You know, I believe Marley was a lot happier there. And so is Dingo, he of the herniated butt.
Dingo must’ve looked at you with envy, Lou. He knew his days of romping around the dog park were over. And there you are, not only the WBD, but in the very prime of your life. Enjoy these days, my boy. Appreciate each and every one of them.
Published in: on June 22, 2011 at 1:52 am  Leave a Comment  

June 20, from Louie, Day 17

It’s your main man Louie here, chillin’ out on the homefront.
‘N’ for some cosmic reason that I can’t begin to comprehend, I’m gettin’ a whole new outlook on life.
Red alerts? Oh, pfffft.
Intruders? Oh, pshaw.
Orcs? Gimme a break.
What’s REALLY important is MORE CRUNCHY WIENERS!!!!
Take this mornin’, for instance. The squawk box beside the big bed started, well, squawkin’, ‘n’ Mom leaped outta bed ‘n’ hastily pulled on her drawers. I opened one bleary eye to record the proceedin’s, then rolled over ‘n’ went back to sleep. I couldn’t be bothered. There was too many lovely dreams rollin’ around my pea-sized brain.
But Mom INSISTED that I get up, ‘n’ eventually, just to stop her naggin’, I flopped onto the floor ‘n’ yawned my way out to the back yard, ‘n’ then I collapsed on the grass ‘n’ took a nap whilst Mom dashed around the house, collectin’ provisions for our mornin’ hike.
“A hike?” I yawned as Mom waved my bling in front of my face. “I don’t think a hike is part o’ the meanin’ of life, Mom.” ‘N’ I stared up at the sky, mesmerized by the kaleidoscopic shapes of the clouds.
Mom stomped her foot (‘n’ the sound just mushroomed in my brain. It was like a steel drum band.  Cool!) ‘N’ she blinged me up ‘n’ dragged me out to Mr. Rav for a hike on the Towpath.

Louie contemplates crunchy wieners and the color GREEN.

Well, Pops, I was none too innerested at first. I really wanted to go home ‘n’ curl up on the couch ‘n’ contemplate my butt. But then the color GREEN swelled across my eyes. Gosh, Dad, everythin’ was so LUSH ‘n’ LEAFY. I could barely take it all in, it was so mesmerizin’. Little green leaves sproutin’ along the path. BIG green leaves danglin’  from the trees. Green bushes crowdin’ in from all sides. Green weeds reachin’ to the skies. GREEN GREEN GREEN! It was so lovely, I just wanted to plop down in the vegetation ‘n’ absorb its greenness.
“Oh, for Gawd’s sake, Louie,” Mom said in exasperation, “will you just poop?”
Poop. What a lovely word. I wish I could sing it all day long.
‘N’ I was so wrapped up in the loveliness of its sound, I barely acknowledged the bunny we spooked on the path.
‘N’ when a doe stepped out in front of us — oh, golly, I couldn’t be bothered.
I was thinkin’ of poop, ‘n’ wonderin’ if it would be green.
“Louie,” Mom said in consternation, “what the heck has come over you?”
But I just grinned at her ‘n’ imagined her dressed in maple leaves ‘n’ pine cones. Wouldn’t that be most lovely?
Well, I guess I musta finally pooped (I’m sure it was profoundly green) ‘n’ I guess Mom musta finally drove me home, ‘cuz I’m here now writin’ to you, right? But it’s all kinda hazy. I think there might be an itch in my butt, but I can’t be bothered to scratch it. I really wanna just stretch out in the big bed ‘n’ smell the clean sheets ‘n’ feel the many threads of the new quilt caressin’ my body, but first I gotta eat some more of them crunchy wieners. Good golly, but they taste good.
You oughta try some, Pops. They’ll change your whole outlook on life.
Oh, gosh, I can’t write no more. I’m floatin’ up to the ceilin’. Mom’s gonna have to tether me, or I’ll drift away to Australia.
Which doesn’t sound like such a bad thing.
Good golly, what’s happenin’ to me?
I think maybe the vet shot me up with somethin’ real good.
He’s not such a bad guy after all.
Can we put him on retainer?
I’ll think about that tomorrow.
I need to go to bed, Pops.
I’m really tired.


Pops replies:

Oh, Louie … uh … your Dudeness. You seem to have discovered something extremely profound about your dog-life. Enjoy!
Published in: on June 21, 2011 at 1:03 am  Leave a Comment