Aug. 30, from Louie, Day 88

Oh, Pops, I am so ashamed.

Just yesterday, Mom was braggin’ to Uncle Bob that I’ve never EVER had an accident in the house.

‘N’ this mornin’ I left her a big puddle by the back door.

I am soooooooooooooooooooooooo ashamed.

Even though it wasn’t my fault.

MOM was the one who forgot to take me on an evenin’ stroll. MOM was the one who thought dashin’ in ‘n’ out the back door until midnight would take care of everythin’, even though the vet WARNED her that my crunchy wieners would make me “potty” more. ‘N’ when I nuzzled her at dawn ‘cuz things was gettin’ quite painful, MOM was the one who mumbled, “Oh, Louie, it’s too early to get up,” before she rolled over ‘n’ went back to sleep.

So I tried to butt open the back door myself, only it was latched. ‘N’ I just couldn’t wait no longer.

Afterwards, I slunk back into the bedroom ‘n’ hid in the corner beside the dresser, waitin’ for my justified beatin’.

When Mom finally drug herself outta bed at the usual crack of nine, she knew immediately that somethin’ was wrong. “Louie,” she said in surprise, “why are you hidin’ in the corner instead of climbin’ up here for your belly rub?”

I just buried my snout in my paws. I didn’t deserve no belly rub.

So Mom pulled on her drawers ‘n’ toddled out to the kitchen to let me out.

‘N’ then she saw it.

“Oh, my,” Mom said.

I hung my head ‘n’ braced myself for a kick in my nether regions.

“Oh, goodness,” Mom said. “What a veritable lake of dog pee!”

An ocean, actually, ‘n’ I trembled.

But Mom just sighed, tiptoed around the flood ‘n’ flung open the back door.

I tore outside ‘n’ peed myself silly all over the pachysandra. ‘N’ the roses. ‘N’ the lilacs. ‘N’ the tubs of impatiens. I just couldn’t help myself.

When I finally tiptoed back in the house, Mom had scrubbed up all the evidence ‘n’ the floor smelt as fresh as Mr. Clean.

“You mad at me, Mom?” I asked trepidaciously.

“No, Lou,” Mom said, ‘n’ she give me a hug, “I’m mad at me. I let you down. ‘N’ it won’t happen again!”

I lifted my head in surprise, ‘n’ my tail whipped up into a frenzied waggin’. “You mean it, Mom? You aren’t gonna beat me with a pogo stick?”

“Louie,” Mom said, “I would never EVER beat you with a pogo stick! Unless, of course, you start peein’ at the back door ‘cuz you’re too lazy to go out.”

“Never, Mom,” I said, ‘n’ I crossed my heart with all my many feet. “Never ever again!”

“Then let’s go for a hike,” Mom said brightly, ” ‘cuz I’m just itchin’ to climb the mountains at Treaty Line!”

‘N’ so we did. ‘N’ before she went to that EWP, Mom quite diligently took me for a long Pre-Work Walk.

‘N’ tonight when she come home, there wasn’t a single ill-placed drop on the kitchen floor.

But I’m still most ashamed. I shoulda never EVER let things get so out of hand.

What will Tommy Lee think of me?

Your ever-so-humiliated,

Louie.

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, dont’cha know, everyone has an accident once in a while. Mom still loves you.
 
Pops.
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Published in: on August 31, 2011 at 12:59 am  Leave a Comment  

Aug. 29, from Louie, Day 87

Hi, Pops! Louie here!

I’m writin’ kinda early ‘cuz me ‘n’ Mom has had a frightfully busy day, ‘n’ I think we’re both gonna crawl into bed early, even though it hasn’t been all that many hours since we got up.

The day started with a super duper hike back on the Schumacher Trail. Only unlike the other day, this time, we come in through the back door — meanin’ we started at Big Bend, ‘n’ had to climb an extra mountain to get to the top of the trail. Whew! That was harsh. Even I was feelin’ winded before we was halfway up the last mountain. But Mom just told me to suck it up, ‘cuz we was havin’ birthday food tonight ‘n’ we needed to burn up a boatload of Kibble ‘n’ potato chip calories before sittin’ down to dinner.

Well, the thought of a birthday party just fired me up, ‘n’ I sprinted to the top of the last mountain, draggin’ a gaspin’ Mom behind me. ‘N’ then before she could catch her breath, I spun around ‘n’ drug her back down all of the twistin’ ‘n’ turnin’ mountainous paths in record time. (See, I thought if we hurried up our hike, that would hurry up our dinner, but as I found out, things don’t work that way in human time.)

So then we dashed off in Mr. Rav ‘n’ did our birthday shoppin’ for Uncle Bob. We got a fresh cherry pie from the bakery (sadly, cherry pie don’t come with meatballs or even bacon), ‘n’ we filled up Mr. Rav’s back end with many pots of flowerin’ mums (which I think is a very odd present, ‘cuz you can’t eat nor fetch mums, so what’s the point of havin’ ’em?), ‘n’ we stopped at the drugstore to load up on puzzle books to keep Uncle Bob occupied durin’ his chemo-sabe treatments ‘n’ at the last minute, Mom dashed into Acme to get him an extra expensive lottery ticket, ‘cuz she knew he’d NEVER waste that kinda money on himself.

So then we went home ‘n’ flew through the chores so we’d have extra time to decorate all our presents with outrageous ribbons ‘n’ bows. (I didn’t see the point. I thought they just got in the way ‘n’ delayed the enjoyment of the presents, but Mom said I didn’t unnerstand — they was EXPECTED ‘n’ Uncle Bob would be most disappointed if there wasn’t no wrappin’ paper to tear up. Sometimes you humans are really quite strange.)

After the chores ‘n’ a brief walk around the neighborhood to empty me out before our long drive, me ‘n’ Mom packed up Mr. Rav, ‘n’ we was off for another adventure! Once again, it was a bright ‘n’ sunny day, ‘n’ I had a wunnerful time pokin’ my head outta Mr. Rav’s windows while we sailed down the innerstate ‘n’ Mom howled along with the radio. What a gas!

When we got to Massillon, me ‘n’ Mom was both happily surprised to see how chipper Uncle Bob was. It’s been darned near two weeks since he last stopped by the house, ‘n’ oh my, what a difference them two weeks made! He was laughin’ again ‘n’ he’s stopped losin’ weight ‘n’ his color was real good (that color thing was Mom’s words; I wouldn’t know ‘cuz I think all humans look kinda sickly without any lovely hairs to cover their arms ‘n’ legs). ‘N’ he tore into his pipin’ hot pizza dinner, leavin’ hardly any crusts for me. But it was his birthday, so it wouldn’t’ve been polite for me to complain. ‘Sides, Uncle Tim made up for it by slippin’ me lots o’ pepperoni ‘n’ sausage under the table.

After dinner, we took a VERY long hike around Mom’s old neighborhood, ‘n’ while she ‘n’ Uncle Bob chattered about which neighbors was gone and which was still around, I happily peed ‘n’ pooped over all the new ‘n’ unexplored vegetation along the way. It was a most successful hike.

I was ready to go home then, but Mom insisted on stayin’ for pie (which, of course, was FRUIT, ‘n’ Louie don’t eat FRUIT, so there was no joy for me there, although Uncle Bob dug up some chip-chop ham from the frigerator for me). ‘N’ then Mom called that Bryan Guy, ‘n’ we all took turns talkin’ to him ‘n’ hearin’ firsthand how Irene mistreated New York City. (I was very envious that HE got all the stormin’ ‘n’ I didn’t, but Mom just told me to hush ‘n’ be thankful.)

Bob was gettin’ kinda sleepy by then (‘n’ so was I), so we packed up a mess o’ leftovers ‘n’ climbed into Mr. Rav for the ride home. I slept most o’ the way but Mom couldn’t, ‘cuz, you know, she was drivin’, ‘n’ just as I was wakin’ up to yawn, we pulled into our very own driveway on Canyon Trail. Well, I IMMEDIATELY drug Mom out for another walk, ‘cuz I had to inspect the neighborhood ‘n’ make sure nothin’ dire had transpired in our absence. I’m pretty sure nothin’ did, but I had to check anyway, ‘cuz that’s my job.

It’s almost dark now, ‘n’ I’ve had a very nice dinner on top o’ my pizza, ‘n’ my tummy is full to burstin’, so like I said, me ‘n’ Mom is gonna go to bed early ‘n’ let all them pepperonis ferment. If Mom’s lucky, I won’t have gas. (Hee hee hee.)

Your weary but happy,

Louie.

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, it sounds like you had a wunnerful, wunnerful day. Then again, every day with you in it is wunnerful.
 
Pops.
Published in: on August 29, 2011 at 8:34 pm  Leave a Comment  

Aug. 28, from Louie, Day 86

Dear Pops,

I am MOST embarrassed.

Mom caused a catastrophe of caninical proportions at the dog park this mornin’, ‘n’ I may NEVER be allowed back in again.

It started like this (‘n’ you’ll see, it wasn’t MY fault at all).

Irene sputtered out overnight ‘n’ never dropped a sprinkle of rain on Canyon Trail, so I happily stowed away my rain gear in anticipation of a gut-wrenchin’ hike in the Cuyahoga Mountains. But Mom was feelin’ a little peckish, ‘n’ instead of hikin’, she decided that I needed some good old-fashioned socializin’ with the gang down at the dog park. I was mildly disappointed, ‘cuz you know how much I like to climb mountains, but it HAD been a week since I’d had any canine interaction (other than the delightful picnic with my Delilah), so I swallowed my protests ‘n’ eagerly hopped into Mr. Rav. I figured it bein’ Sunday mornin’, there’d be a whole posse of weekenders for me to play with.

‘N’ I was right. The park was just hoppin’ with canines of all sizes ‘n’ persuasions. Even my false love Annie was there, eatin’ other dogs’ poop ‘n’ tryin’ to cozy up to me. But I just sniffed ‘n’ took after other butts, ‘cuz, you know, break my heart once, shame on you; break my heart twice, shame on me!

So I was busily dashin’ from one pack of dogs to another, gettin’ deliriouser ‘n’ deliriouser by the second, ‘n’ before Mom finished even two hikes around the fence, I was madly humpin’ everythin’ in sight. Mom would howl ‘n’ bat me offa one dog, ‘n’ I’d just gallop to the next bunch o’ guys ‘n’ hump another. Good gosh almighty, but it felt good!

‘Cept the beefy father of a dainty Pomeranian started yellin’ at Mom to get her %^&#%$^ dog under control or else, so quite red-faced, she grabbed my gay collar ‘n’ drug me to the gate to bling me up. That was OK by me, ‘cuz by then, I was kinda drained, ya know? All that socializin’ was exhaustin’, so I obediently allowed Mom to snap on my leash.

UNFORTUNATELY, a bunch of other dogs raced over to the gate to wish me goodbye, ‘n’ at the VERY SAME TIME, two newcomers trotted up to the gate from the outside, anxious to be let in. Well, Mom was very red-faced ‘n’ flustered by then, ‘n’ instead of backin’ me up ‘n’ lettin’ the crowd disperse, as good dog park etiquette demands, she ignored all the creatures four-footed and two swirlin’ about the gate, kneed it open ‘n’ tried to push me out without lettin’ any other dogs squirt past her.

Fat chance. These are DOGS we’re talkin’ about, ‘n’ about half a dozen of ’em barreled past the first gate with me.

“Oh, shoo, shoo, shoo!” Mom moaned in desperation.

But we wasn’t listenin’ to her. We was all tryin’ to get to the two newcomers waitin’ outside.

Well, one of the other ladies noticed our predicament, ‘n’ she tried to herd the gang back into the park so’s we could make our escape, but there was so much fur flyin’, the humans didn’t have a chance. Mom kept draggin’ me to the last gate, ‘n’ the other lady kept shovin’ stampedin’ dogs back into the park, but every time they’d get one leak plugged up, another would pop open.

‘N’ then, for some reason, the owner of the two newcomers decided, “Oh, what the heck!” ‘N’ he flung open the outside gate so’s his dogs could come INSIDE.

There was a mad scramble for freedom! Half a dozen dogs sniffed the opportunity to run free, ‘n’ they all FLUNG themselves at the gate.

Well, the humans almost corralled us, but at the last minute, one beagle slipped through ‘n’ joyously joined the survivin’ dogs of the late Dingo’s dad, who were dancin’ ‘n’ peein’ on all the vegetation outside instead of on the inside.

OH, what pandemonium! Humans swarmed out the gate ‘n’ tried to catch the little beagle, but he was so excited, he squeaked outta everyone’s grasp, ‘n’ tore up ‘n’ down the driveway. Quite belatedly, his human noticed the commotion ‘n’ come chuggin’ up to the gate, howlin’ at her precious to come back inside, but he was havin’ none of it. The humans tried most breathlessly to catch him, but he was VERY clever ‘n’ craftily eluded even the most agile of dog owners.

I woulda joined the party, but I was on my bling, ‘n’ Mom’s leaden feet was planted in the ground as she hung her head in shame for causin’ such a disaster.  If ONLY she had backed up ‘n’ let the crowd thin out before tryin’ to leave, none o’ this would’ve ever happened.

‘N’ many humans angrily told her so.

It looked like the beagle was gonna make a break for Newfoundland, but then the late Dingo’s dad crept up behind him ‘n’ snagged his collar, ‘n’ he was delivered to his most grateful owner. ‘N’ while everyone was pattin’ Dingo’s dad on the back for savin’ the day, me ‘n’ Mom slunk down the driveway ‘n’ crawled into Mr. Rav to make our most ignominious way home.

“WHAT WAS YOU THINKIN’?????” I demanded of Mom as many hisses ‘n’ raspberries rained down on our retreat.

“I wasn’t thinkin’ at all,” Mom sobbed. “I just wanted to get you outta there before you deflowered anymore innocent dogs!”

“Them dogs wasn’t innocent,” I snorted. ” ‘N’ if they didn’t like the attention, they coulda taken care of themselves! Sheesh, Mom, after all these years, I’d’ve thought you’d’ve figured that out by now!”

“It’s coffee deprivation, Lou,” Mom whined in a poor self-defense. “I can’t think straight without my coffee!”

“Oh, pshaw!” I said sternly.

‘N’ I wouldn’t talk to Mom the rest o’ the way home. ‘Cuz she has seriously damaged my reputation. She embarrassed me in front of all of my friends, ‘n’ I’m pretty sure that come tomorrow, Mayor Don is gonna issue an executive order bannin’ me from all dog parks east of the Mississippi.

Darn that Mom. Just DARN her. My social life has been ruined, ‘n’ it’s ALL HER FAULT.

I will never EVER lick her face again.

Your humiliated,

Louie.

Published in: on August 29, 2011 at 1:33 am  Leave a Comment  

Aug. 27, from Louie, Day 85

Dear Pops,

I am MOST disappointed.

After Mom went off to that Evil Work Place this afternoon, I spent the rest of the day ‘n’ clear into the night standin’ guard in my swash-bucklin’ boots ‘n’ bright yellow slicker ‘n’ matchin’ rain hat (which Mom had conveniently altered so’s my dumb ears could poke through), ‘n’ despite my manic vigilance, that fickle Irene never bothered to show up. Not a single wisp of cloud nor sprinkle.

‘N’ I was soooooooooooooooooooo primed to perform outlandishly heroic deeds!

In preparation, Mom took me on an ever-so-challengin’ hike up ‘n’ down the Schumacher Trail. (We did ALL the hills, too, so’s my wienered thighs would be strong enough to rescue flood-stranded neighbors.) ‘N’ Mom did TONS of laundry so’s neither of us would be caught with dirty underwear. ‘N’ Mom made sure the frigerator ‘n’ cupboards was well-stocked with meaty provisions (I give her a VERY long shoppin’ list, ‘n’ she didn’t disappoint me. The storage room is jamPACKED with Milkbones ‘n’ Kibbles ‘n’ cases of water for me ‘n’ a coupla cans of soup for her, ‘n’ in deference to my never-endin’ patrols, there’s jumbo packs of the EXPENSIVE brand of wieners in the frigerator, ‘cuz, you know, you can’t give rescue workers cheap refreshments. That would be rude.)

We took an extra special long Pre-Work Walk, too, so’s I could reconnoiter the neighborhood ‘n’ catalog potential trouble spots. Miss Sandra’s got a coupla frail lookin’ trees leanin’ over OUR fence, ‘n’ there’s many MANY sewer holes clogged up with Rocky nests, ‘n’ there’s an overabundance of OLD people livin’ on Canyon Trail who won’t be strong enough to climb up to their roofs by themselves, ‘n’ the debris in the woods next door — well, it looks like it’s ALREADY been hit by a hurry-cane, let me tell you!

So I made a mental note of ALL the people ‘n’ dogs I might have to rescue, ‘n’ by the time Mom left for that EWP, I was just dancin’ in my boots. I couldn’t hardly WAIT for Irene to bring it on!

‘Cept nothin’ happened! Dogs ‘n’ juvenile delinquents cavorted all afternoon ‘n’ late into the night in the park next door, ‘cuz it turned out to be a most exceptionally bee-YOO-tiful evenin’ weather wise. The breezes was gentle ‘n’ refreshin’, the sunset was a delicate pink ‘n’ lavender that made me yearn for our hikes to the Beaver Marsh, neighbors strolled gaily up ‘n’ down the street, conversin’ cheerfully with one another, ‘n’ there I sat (in between the occasional nap), swelterin’ in my rain gear without so much as a chipmunk in need of rescue.

Sheesh.

Don’t them weather forecasters ever get nothin’ right?

Well, Mom detected my disappointment as soon as she got home, ‘n’ she reassured me that Irene, like most ladies, was merely behind schedule, ‘n’ TOMORROW I will MOST ASSUREDLY be required to slog through her backlash ‘n’ save the homeland from another millennial flood.

I sure hope so. ‘Cuz I don’t think I can take too many more hours in my yellow slicker. It’s very hot ‘n’ stuffy, ‘n’ even Mom agreed as she pinched her nose shut durin’ our most joyous welcome-home hug that things was gettin’ mighty odoriferous.

So I’m gonna sign off now ‘n’ turn in early, so I’m fresh ‘n’ rambunctious tomorrow when Irene just HAS to show up. (In the meantime, I heard there was an earthquake today in California, ‘n’ I hope you are takin’ all the necessary precautions to protect Miss Corolla ‘n’ Mother ‘n’, of course, yourself. Mom says we are quickly countin’ down the days now until your return, ‘n’ we don’t want no aftershocks gettin’ in the way of your timely arrival.)

Mom just pulled out a big MILKBONE for my midnight snack, ‘n’ she’s sippin’ a little red juice for herself, ‘n’ you oughta do the same. ‘N’ in the mornin’, I hope it will be rainin’ BUCKETS!!!!!!

Your most impatient,

Louie.

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, those denizens of Canyon Trail have no idea – none whatsoever – how lucky they are to have you standing guard. But, alas, that Irene probably will be fickle and choose to go elsewhere. No matter. You certainly will have earned your hefty supply of Milkbones and maybe even a crunchy (expensive) wiener or two.
 
Pops.
Published in: on August 28, 2011 at 1:03 am  Leave a Comment  

Aug. 26, from Louie, Day 84

Well, Pops, I was plannin’ to spend my weekend proofreadin’ my wiener letters, ‘cuz I really am QUITE concerned about the purity of the dogfood supply. But some lady named Irene is havin’ a catfight with Mother Nature, ‘n’ Tommy Lee has canceled all leaves for any agents east of the Mississippi. I am on SUPER DUPER red alert for the next three days, ‘n’ that means I gotta patrol 24/7, on the lookout for hail hurtlin’ a hunnert-miles-an-hour outta the sky.

That’s pretty excitin’, but I sure don’t wanna lose the momentum of my letter-writin’ campaign, either. Oh, gosh, I’m bein’ pulled in many, many different directions! Who to save first? Wiener eaters or the innocent civilians caught in the vortex of Irene ‘n’ Mother Nature’s hissy fit?

I was gonna hide my weekend assignment from Mom, ‘cuz she really has enough stuff to worry about, ‘n’ Canyon Trail most THANKFULLY don’t lie smack in the middle of that irritable Irene’s path. But when Mom come home from that EWP tonight, her lovely brow was furrowed quite deeply in concern for that Bryan Guy.

Seems that Uncle Bob, havin’ nothin’ better do, went trollin’ on the Internet, ‘n’ discovered that the evacuation zone in New York City is only a coupla blocks away from that Bryan Guy’s address, ‘n’ he immediately informed Mom that her boy was smack dab in the middle of the projected path of destruction. So Mom just as immediately dashed off an email to that Bryan Guy, instructin’ him to rent a car ‘n’ come back to Ohio to sit out the storm.

That Bryan Guy just told her to get a grip on reality. He’s many many feet upstream from any POSSIBLE storm surge, ‘n’ ‘cept for the possibility of a power outage (‘n’ the fact that the subways has been shut down for the weekend), he really don’t expect to be affected at all.

“Oh, Louie,” Mom groaned as she give me a big hug, “my baby boy is in danger, ‘n’ he won’t listen to reason. Whatever shall I do?????”  

Well, thanks to the MIB, I’m trained to handle emergencies like this, ‘n’ I told her we needed to round up all our candles ‘n’ extra batteries ‘n’ Band-Aids ‘n’ Little Buddy III ‘n’ my secret stash of Milkbones ‘n’ FedEx ’em to that Bryan Guy overnight so’s he properly provisioned for the impendin’ emergency.

“Why, Louie,” Mom said, very, very touched, “that’s quite generous of you to sacrifice your Milkbones!” ‘N’ she give me another teary-eyed hug.

“Well, shucks, Mom, it’s the least I can do,” I said modestly.

” ‘Specially since the backlash of Irene could knock out our power, too, ‘n’ close all our grocery stores ‘n’ leave us short of Milkbones, too,” Mom pointed out.

“OK,” I said hastily, “we leave out the Milkbones, but we’ll send him all our batteries ‘n’ a flashlight, too!”

“Oh, Louie,” Mom said, “I knew I could count on you!”

‘N’ she immediately dashed off to gather provisions to send to that Bryan Guy.

Which is what she’s doin’ now, while I prepare to patrol the perimeter. Canyon Trail isn’t supposed to be hit very hard — IF you can believe the weatherman, who never gets nothin’ right — but after our ominous earthquake earlier this week, I’m pretty certain that the weather in the whole eastern half of the United States has been broke, ‘n’ there’s gonna be great destruction in our immediate future.  I may have to deputize the entire gang down at the dog park to get us through this crisis, ‘cuz you know, humans aren’t the least bit capable of handlin’ things like millennial floods ‘n’ hurry-canes. I am just exceedin’ly happy that you’re out in California, ‘n’ I don’t haveta worry about YOUR safety, too!

So I’m gonna sign off now ‘n’ as soon as Mom’s done stuffin’ her care package into a West Point Market bag, I’m gonna run it out to the curb for pickup, ‘n’ then I’m gonna pace, pace, pace all night long. ‘Cuz there’s somethin’ electric in the air, ‘n’ I can feel a dreadful storm comin’. I only hope the Ents can keep the oak trees in line, ‘cuz I’ll have my hands full keepin’ MOM in line.

Gosh, if it isn’t ONE thing, it’s another.

You gotta come home soon, Pops, so YOU can take charge of these catastrophes ‘n’ I can go back to chasin’ chipmunks ‘n’ just bein’ a dog.

Your most overtaxed,

Louie.

P.S. Say, Pops, you don’t really think that Bryan Guy’s in danger, do you? ‘Cuz Mom would be MOST devastated if he drowned!

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, that Bryan Guy can surely take care of himself. You’ll just have to put up with Mom’s worries. She gets that way when it comes to you, Uncle Bob and that Bryan Guy. She can’t help it.
 
Pops.
Published in: on August 27, 2011 at 1:44 am  Leave a Comment  

Aug. 25, from Louie, Day 83

Boy oh boy, Pops, what a busy day! What a busy BUSY day!!!!
 
It started out slow, ‘cuz after some MAJOR thunder boomers durin’ the night, me ‘n’ Mom knew the trails was gonna be way too muddy for a hike. So we slept in, ‘n’ when we finally rolled out at the crack o’ 10, the sidewalks was nice ‘n’ dry. We hiked many many miles around the neighborhood (OK, it was just one mile, but without breakfast, it felt like many MANY more, especially when I was draggin’ Mom’s macaroni thighs up the brick hills of Palisades.)
 
After a light breakfast of wieners ‘n’ Kibbles for me ‘n’ vitamin supplements for Mom, she hopped into the shower ‘n’ I splashed my face with some fragrant birdbath water ‘n’ we was off to see…..
 
DELILAH!!!!!
 
Oh, Pops, I was most nervous. It’s been so long since I seen Delilah, ‘n’ she’s been so sick this summer, I was afraid she’d be a frail invalid lady ‘n’ not at all appealin’. But she barked ‘n’ wagged her tail most joyously to see me, ‘n’ even though she creaks some with arthuritis, we trotted off for a happy tour of the Creswells’ back yard, ‘n’ Delilah most graciously allowed me to pee on her favorite flowers. (She tired out kinda fast, ‘n’ spent most of the afternoon nappin’ in the shade, but I had a lovely time investigatin’ Delilah’s mud holes ‘n’ all the Creswells’ monuments to beloved pets of the past, ‘n’ whenever I got tired of that, I’d meander back to the picnic, where EVERYBODY was slippin’ me bits of chicken under the table.)
 
Mom says I was a PERFECT gentleman. I didn’t even snarl at the two new cats who’ve claimed the Creswells as their humans. (Well, of COURSE I didn’t snarl. Even though I hate cats. It was THEIR yard ‘n’ I was the guest, ‘n’ every dog worth the title knows you DON’T slash the throats of the host cats. Sheesh, Mom shoulda trusted me better.)
 
The humans finished their feast with a rhubarb pie that Miz Creswell baked JUST FOR MOM, ‘n’ I could tell by the look on Mom’s face how much she ‘n’ her tummy was touched by the gesture. ‘N’ she nearly swooned when Miz Creswell INSISTED that we take the rest of the pie home with us. (I woulda swooned, too, if it’d been chock full o’ meat, but rhubarb isn’t even a decent fruit, much less a pie.)
 
After many hugs ‘n’ kisses (‘n’ that was just me ‘n’ Delilah), we all promised to have a picnic again once you get back,  ‘n’ then me ‘n’ Mom sped home ‘n’ curled up for a well-deserved nap.
 
Well, those woulda been enough adventures for any one day, but after a very refreshin’ hour in the recliner (Mom don’t hardly give me enough room), we took a brisk walk around the neighborhood ‘n’ tore into our belated chores. (I had much laundry to mangle, ‘n’ the extra special treat of snaggin’ the bedroom drapes that Mom decided to haul offa the windows ‘n’ take to the cleaners.) Mom had many errands to catch up on, but instead of leavin’ me alone to guard the homefront, she generously allowed me to accompany her, ‘n’ I spent many wunnerful minutes hangin’ my head outta Mr. Rav’s windows as we tooled around town, pickin’ up the mail ‘n’ droppin’ off the drapes ‘n’ gettin’ new books at the library ‘n’ depositin’ checks at the bank so we don’t run outta funds for Milkbones ‘n’ fillin’ up Mr. Rav. I never once got outta Mr. Rav to stretch my legs, but it was very important for me to guard Mr. Rav from intruders while Mom popped into this store ‘n’ that.
 
When we finally got home, I was seriously contemplatin’ another nap, but then Mom pulled some plump chicken breasts outta the frigerator ‘n’ we commenced to cookin’ up one o’ my favorites for dinner, South American Baked Chicken. (OK, after chicken for lunch, chicken for dinner was kinda redundant, but that’s what Mom had left defrostin’ in the frigerator, ‘n’ by golly, that’s what she was gonna cook, ‘cuz, really, who can argue with more chicken? Not me.) ‘N’ while the chicken baked ‘n’ nearly drove me to tears with its seductive aromas, Mom finished up the daily chores, ‘n’ then settled down to await your phone call.
 
Which finally came. ‘N’ then me ‘n’ Mom made piggies of ourselves, but to offset the many chicken-drippin’ calories we inhaled, we took yet ANOTHER neighborhood walk, where forgettin’ all my nice behavior with the Creswells’ cats, I tried to yank Mom’s arms outta their sockets by goin’ after all the evil cats lurkin’ on Canyon Trail. THEY weren’t my hosts, so they didn’t deserve no amnesty, ‘n’ Mom groaned quite loudly as I tugged ‘n’ pulled. I was VERY determined, so Mom might be kinda sore come mornin’.
 
She’s planted in front of the TV now, watchin’ that cute little Colt McCoy get chewed up by the Eagles ‘n’ moanin’ that it’s gonna be a VERY long season indeed. So I think I better sign off now ‘n’ go distract her, so she don’t lose the very pleasant mood she’s been in all day. Maybe I’ll send her to bed early, ‘cuz golly, we’re both near exhausted.
 
‘N’ TOMORROW, I’ll nag her into a decent hike.
 
Your most devoted,
 
Louie.
 
P.S. Say, Pops, another funny green ‘n’ white capsule turned up in my wieners this evenin’, ‘n’ Mom got VERY flustered over it, mumblin’ ’bout how maybe it’s time to switch to meatballs. You don’t suppose it’s MOM’S fault that there’s foreign objects in my food bowl???????
 
Naw, not MOM! That just wouldn’t be right.  
 

Pops replies:

 
No, NOT Mom! Oh, Louie, you and Mom look after each other most wunnerfully and Mom would NEVER do anything to hurt her Lou. So, even if you discover a strange object in your food, you must be convinced that you are simply getting vitamin supplements, just like Mom.
 
Pops.

 

Published in: on August 25, 2011 at 9:20 pm  Leave a Comment  

Aug. 24, from Louie, Day 82

Dear Pops,

Somethin’ VERY nefarious is goin’ on.

I think I’ve stumbled on a nationwide — GLOBAL even — contamination of the wiener supply!

I was blissfully chowin’ down on breakfast this mornin’ when suddenly my mouth was overcome with a most VILE flavor.

“@$%&^*%^%$#%^B!” I gagged.

“Louie,” Mom said distractedly from her favorite post at the kitchen sink, “mind your manners!”

“Well, patoooey!” I sputtered, ‘n’ spit a most incommodious hunk of loathsomeness outta my mouth.

“Louie,” Mom said, “did you just barf on my clean floor?”

“Sure did, Mom,” I said indignantly, ” ‘n’ you oughta see what I just barfed up!!!!!” ‘N’ I pointed my quiverin’ snout at a white ‘n’ green CAPSULE lyin’ on the floor.

Mom toddled over to take a peek, ‘n’ instead of bein’ indignant like me, she just sighed ‘n’ said, “Oh my.”

“What the heck is THAT, Mom?” I demanded.

Mom scooped it up ‘n’ stuffed it in her shorts pocket. “Nothin’, Lou. Think nothin’ of it. It’s just a stray chemical that wandered into your wiener.”

“Well, that’s wrong, Mom,” I huffed. “We count on the U.S.D. of A to keep our wieners pure. How in heck could this happen?????”

Mom dithered, ‘cuz she don’t like to cause a fuss, ‘n’ she just told me to eat the rest of my breakfast.

“No, Mom,” I said, “we gotta get to the bottom of this. Where did you buy that despicable wiener?”

“Where I always do,” Mom said. “Down at the valley grocery store.”

“Well, you gotta go back to Acme ‘n’ get a fresh supply,” I said sternly. ‘Cuz capsules in my breakfast wieners is not a laughin’ matter.

“But they’re only $1.99 down in the valley,” Mom protested. ” ‘N’ they’re $3.99 at Acme. Your Pops would be MOST unhappy with me if I spent $2 extra on wieners.”

“He’ll have to live with it,” I said. “A contaminated wiener supply is VERY serious, so we need to picket the valley store TODAY!” 

‘N’ I dashed to that Bryan’s Guy occasional bedroom, where Mom stores all her writin’ stuff, so I could dig out magic markers ‘n’ posterboard ‘n’ make up some really clever ‘n’ caustic picketin’ signs.

“Now Louie,” Mom said, chasin’ after me, “don’t go off half-cocked. We don’t KNOW it’s the store’s fault!” ‘N’ she was lookin’ QUITE nervous.

“Well, who else’s fault IS it?” I demanded as I drug out a fire-engine red marker. I was on a consumer mission! The wiener lovers of the world was in danger, ‘n’ I was gonna save ’em.

“Well,” Mom said, wringin’ her hands, “it coulda been the distributor, or the wholesaler, or the manufacturer, or the slaughterhouse — ”

“EEEEK!” I shuddered.

” — or the cattle rancher, maybe,” Mom said, ‘n’ her eyes rolled nervously around the room.

Despite my determination to walk the picket line, I had to admit, Mom had a good point. I didn’t wanna cause no trouble where it wasn’t warranted. But gosh, Pops, contaminated WIENERS! Is nothin’ sacred?

“You gotta do more research,” Mom said as she shooed me back out into the hall. “And you gotta finish your breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said.

“But I’m pretty sure there’s a very nice sliver of Prednisolone in your wieners, ‘n’ you don’t wanna miss out on that!” Mom said.

“What’s Prednisolone?” I asked suspiciously.

“Gristle,” Mom said promptly.

“Oh, yum,” I said, ‘n’ galloped back to my food bowl to lick it clean.

Mom was quite relieved.

I don’t know why.

‘Cuz I didn’t forget my near brush with poisonous substances, ‘n’ while Mom was off at that EWP, I used YOUR computer password to search the Internet, ‘n’ I come across all SORTS of horror stories about contaminated foodstuffs. They’re EVERYWHERE! So I’ve decided to take a brief leave of absence from the MIB (they don’t do nothin’ on weekdays anyway) ‘n’ as soon as I finish this postin’, I’m gonna start a VERY serious letter-writin’ campaign, probly to Consumer Reports ‘n’ maybe to some guy named Ralph Nader ‘n’ most certainly to PETA. Possibly to the Tea Party, too. ‘Cuz we just can’t have contaminated wieners!

Mom just patted my head ‘n’ told me to go for it. But not until I clean my dinner plate.

Well, of course. SOME things is important.

I just wish I could figure out where that capsule come from. ‘Cuz I don’t wanna cause no trouble for the wrong people.

(Burp!)

I’m very considerate that way.

(Burp, burp!)

Louie.

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, didn’t you hear? They make very special wieners nowadays that come with a very special green capsule in them that gives you very, VERY special powers. Mom musta forgot about that little piece of information. No, the wieners are NOT contaminated. These are just the special kind. You’re gonna love what they do for you.

 
Pops.
Published in: on August 25, 2011 at 12:57 am  Leave a Comment  

Aug. 23, from Louie, Day 81

POPS!

The a-POCK-a-lips rumbled down Canyon Trail this very afternoon!

‘N’ Mom showered right through it!

It was a very strange afternoon to start with. Even though it was SUPPOSED to be Mom’s day off, she whipped through the daily chores ‘n’ jumped into the shower just like she had to get cleaned up for work. She SAID she had a very important lunch date with one of her former students, ‘n’ I couldn’t come ‘cuz they don’t allow dogs — even well-behaved federally deputized dogs like me — in Brubaker’s. I was somewhat miffed (‘n’ suspicious) at bein’ excluded, so I moped to the foyer ‘n’ stretched out on the cool tiles with a very Louie-like grunt of injured feelin’s. Mom just rolled her eyes at my super sensitivity ‘n’ dashed off to the shower. (Well, of COURSE I’m super sensitive! Wasn’t it just yesterday that Mom betrayed me for a goateed vet? Sheesh. Does she think I’m dumb or somethin’?)

So I was just lyin’ there, dreamin’ up ways to get back at Mom for excludin’ me from her afternoon adventures (chewin’ up her new bedroom quilt would be pretty cool, don’tcha think?) when SUDDENLY and MOST unexpectedly …..

The FLOOR rumbled just like it had a bellyache, ‘n’ the rafters over my head begun to creak!!!!!

I instantly leaped to my feet, ‘n’ as the walls gently swayed around me, I tore down the hall ‘n’ burst into the bathroom.

“MOM!” I barked. “Take COVER!”

“Eeeek!” Mom said, as she grabbed a towel ‘n’ wrapped it around her drippin’ private regions. “Don’t you ever KNOCK????”

“No time, Mom,” I said, as I barreled into her ‘n’ shoved her butt-first back into the shower. I knocked her to the floor (there was no time for courtesy) ‘n’ bravely covered her with my very own body, so if the load-bearin’ walls collapsed, they’d hit my knucklehead first ‘n’ not do any damage.

“Louie!” Mom coughed into my belly hairs, “what the HECK has come over you?”

“Earthquake, Mom,” I said. ” ‘N’ I’m protectin’ you from the aftershocks!”

“Oh, Louie,” Mom sputtered, “this is Northeast Ohio! We don’t get earthquakes!”

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t FEEL it?” I demanded.

” ‘Course not,” Mom said as she pushed me offa her chest ‘n’ struggled back to her feet. “You’re dreamin’.”

“Am not,” I said stiffly, offended that she didn’t recognize my heroic efforts on her behalf. “We just had an earthquake, ‘n’ you was too busy shavin’ your meaty legs to notice!”

“My legs are NOT meaty,” Mom said just as stiffly, ” ‘n’ I’ll thank you to please LEAVE ‘n’ let me get dressed in peace!” 

Well, the house had stopped rockin’ by then, ‘n’ Mom was quite irritated with me for the intrusion, ‘n’ since I didn’t wanna make her mad enough to take me back to the evil vet’s, I backed outta the bathroom, but I didn’t go far away. I plopped myself down right outside the door, just in case we slipped on another fault ‘n’ I’d have to dig Mom outta the rubble.

Fortunately, there was no more rumblin’ from down below, ‘n’ by the time Mom emerged from the bathroom, dazzlin’ as usual, she had recovered her normal good humor, ‘n’ she was quite touched to find me standin’ guard. “Oh, Louie,” she said, as she bent over ‘n’ give me a great big hug, “you ARE the world’s best dog, even if you do have a very overactive imagination!” ‘N’ she rewarded me with TWO Milkbones before runnin’ off for her lunch date.

Well, I felt much better once Mom acknowledged that I was the world’s best dog, ‘cuz I really DID try to help her (although in afterthought, it probably woulda been better to drag her outside instead of pushin’ her in the shower if the house was gonna cave in). ‘N’ since there was no more rumbles other than my own wiener-logged tummy, thoughts of earthquakes ‘n’ Fukushima were soon squeezed right outta my brain ‘cuz there isn’t much room in there to start with.

So I was quite startled when many MANY hours later, Mom tore into the house quite bug-eyed ‘n’ threw herself around my neck in slobberin’ gratitude. “Louie,” she said as she petted me most affectionately, “I will never EVER doubt you again! We DID have an earthquake, ‘n’ I was so busy with my shower, I never even noticed it. But YOU, with your KEEN instincts, felt it immediately, ‘n’ instead of dashin’ into the back yard to save yourself, you dashed into the bathroom to save me. You are my biggest hero — next to your Pops, of course.” ‘N’ she smothered me with many momly kisses.

I basked in her admiration. ‘Cuz, after all, I deserved every ounce of it. ‘N’ as a reward for my heroics, Mom dished up a dinner with not only crunchy wieners, but also sauteed sausages of the non-crunchy variety. Yum, yum!!!!!

Gosh, if it means a greasy fried dinner like this, I’ll take an earthquake every night. ‘N’ to heck with my new mighty weight of 69 pounds. (I’m sure once you’re home, you’ll cut back my enhancements ’til I’m back to a slender 65. ‘N’ besides, who trusts the vet’s scales anyway?) 

Your most heroic (burp! — gosh darn Mom ‘n’ her onions),

Louie.

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, what a hero you are! You, without any faults, felt the earth move under your (many) feet. What excitement!
 
Pops.
 
P.S. Uh, you wimps on the East Coast have little clue about REAL earthquakes.
Published in: on August 23, 2011 at 9:52 pm  Leave a Comment  

Aug. 22, from Louie, Day 80

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, POPS!

That evil Mom! That evil evil EVIL Mom!

I KNEW she was gonna do it, ‘n’ she did.

That evil evil evil EVIL MOM!!!!!

She tricked me into an early mornin’ belly rub while I was still mostly asleep, ‘n’ before I knew what she was up to, she stuck her face right in my paw.

“EEEEEUWWWW, Louie,” she gasped, ‘n’ held her nose with her fingers. “You stink!”

‘N’ before I could snatch my paw outta her evil grasp, she squinted at my boo boo ‘n’ said, “You’re full of noxious gunk!”

“Am not, Mom,” I protested, ‘n’ I immediately run away to the shower so’s she couldn’t attack me with her vile tweezers ‘n’ cotton balls.

Well, much to my surprise, Mom ignored my paw the rest of the mornin’. She didn’t assault me once as we took a nice hike on the Towpath, ‘n’ when we got home, she give me a heapin’ breakfast topped with chicken sprinkles. ‘N’ she darned near ignored me as she plowed through the mornin’ chores.

I was lulled into a false sense of security, Pops. Why, I didn’t even think twice when after her shower, she announced that even though it was a work day, we was goin’ on another excursion. I happily leaped into Mr. Rav ‘n’ shoved my snout out the back window, ‘n’ gulped in all that wunnerful summer sunshine as we cruised down to the valley. Oh boy oh boy oh boy, an extra hike! I was INNOCENTLY delirious!

‘N’ then she turned the wrong way at Bruegger’s ‘n’ I realized I had been most maliciously duped.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I howled.

“Oh, yes,” Mom said.

‘N’ that traitorous Mom hauled me into ….

THE VET’S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, I fought her, Pops. I tugged ‘n’ strained ‘n’ pulled at my bling, ‘n’ many times, I nearly knocked Mom offa her feet. But them potato chips she’s been sneakin’ in the middle of the night musta given her super powers, ‘cuz somehow she overwhelmed me ‘n’ drug me into the clinic, ‘n’ I was subjected to all the indignities of weighin’ (69 pounds — oops!) ‘n’ butt thermometers.

Oh, gosh, I quivered. I panted. I clawed at the door. I needed to escape in the worst way!  

But Mom had absolutely no sympathy for me. “Stop actin’ like a baby!” she scolded.

Easy for her to say. No evil vet was threatenin’ to squeeze HER private parts!

I was madly plottin’ my escape (‘n’ darnin’ myself for not bringin’ my dumb phone so I could call Tommy Lee) when suddenly a NEW EVIL VET come into the room, ‘n’ Pops, my heart plopped down into my bladder. He was tall ‘n’ buff ‘n’ he sported the devil’s own black goatee, ‘n’ he positively LEERED at my throbbin’ paw.

I wanted to die.

Mom ‘xplained about my dog fight (I denied everythin’) ‘n’ with a sinister snort, the vet summoned his nefarious accomplices, ‘n’ the three of ’em PLUS MOM held me down while the vet SHAVED MY TOES, POPPED MY LOVELY PUS BALLS, INJECTED ME WITH HAZARDOUS WASTE ‘n’ SWABBED MY BOO BOO with SURPRISIN’LY soothin’ ointment.

I think I passed out. But I don’t think I revealed any top secret government secrets.

When I finally come to, Mom was actually SHAKIN’ the vet’s hand!!!!! (You just can’t trust that woman!) I was so weak ‘n’ delirious, I was sure she was makin’ a deal to have me cremated. ‘N’ I was most sad over the many adventures you ‘n’ me was gonna miss this fall.

But, no! Instead of slippin’ me a cyanide pill, the vet give Mom a whole armload of antibiotics ‘n’ antihistamines, ‘n’ WE WAS FREE!!!!!! (Well, only after Mom handed over many hundreds of dollars in thanks for torturin’ me.) Believe me, Pops, I GALLOPED out the door, ‘n’ I didn’t stop runnin’ until I was safely inside Mr. Rav.

It was very close. That traitorous Mom was willin’ to let that vet have his way with me just ‘cuz of his stunnin’ goatee, ‘n’ I will never EVER forgive her for it.

‘N’ I wouldn’t cozy up to her AT ALL on the drive home, ‘n’ when we was finally safe in the house, I wouldn’t have NOTHIN’ to do with her — until she hauled out a great big package of wieners ‘n’ give me an extra crunchy meal. I was so traumatized, I almost refused to eat — but gosh, it WAS wieners, ‘n’ so what if they was packed with extra big capsules? After my horrendous afternoon, I needed some comfort food. So I gobbled ’em all up, ‘n’ it was only later, when I started to feel quite light-headed, that I wondered whether Mom had slipped me hallucinatory additives.

I drifted off into an exhausted sleep while Mom belatedly took off for that EWP.  But as the night wore on, I felt my energy returnin’, ‘n’ by the time Mom stumbled home, I was READY TO RUMBLE. So what if she was exhausted? I WAS PUMPED UP! So I took her on a rip-snortin’ race around the neighborhood (serves her right for mistreatin’ me this way) ‘n’ I’m good to go for the rest of the night.

I gotta admit, I’ve been feelin’ kinda poorly since my fight with Stella ‘n’ the Evil White Dog, but NOT TONIGHT! I got many wieners rollin’ around my belly, ‘n’ gosh darn it, Mom is gonna pay for betrayin’ me! If she thinks we’re gonna cuddle in the big bed, she is sorely mistaken. I am ITCHIN’ to climb the walls, ‘n’ Mom is gonna PAY for subjectin’ me to the terrors of the vet!

Louie is locked ‘n’ loaded!

Bring it on, Pops, bring it on!

Louie.

P.S. Oh, did I mention that my paw don’t hurt no more? Doesn’t matter. It’s ENTIRELY coincidence.

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, it wasn’t no coincidence, now was it? Sometimes it’s necessary to hurt real bad in order to feel better afterwards. But, oh my, you musta been terrified. You gotta love those extra-crunchy hot dogs, though, don’tcha?
 
Pops.
Published in: on August 23, 2011 at 1:23 am  Leave a Comment  

Aug. 21, from Louie, Day 79

Oh, Pops, I’m so excited!

After such a long ‘n’ borin’ summer, suddenly my social calendar is fillin’ up to overflowin’, ‘n’ I just don’t know HOW I’m gonna get the time to prepare for all my many obligations.

First off, Mom says my dearest Delilah has made such wunnerful progress from her pancake-itis that she’s ready to entertain again, ‘n’ we’re gonna have a garden party at the Creswells on Thursday!

Oh, my gosh, I can’t wait! I haven’t seen Delilah in oh so long, ‘n’ I’ve been so worried about her ‘n’ her inflamed pancakes! Mom says I gotta be on my BEST behavior, ‘cuz even though SHE’S invitin’ ME, it’ll be MY responsibility to make sure nothin’ snarlly happens. I must treat her most tenderly, as befits an ailin’ canine queen, ‘n’ let her have all the best nuggets that fall from the table. That’s gonna be hard, ‘cuz you know how I am about wayward bits of MEAT, but I’m gonna try my best, ‘cuz I really do want Delilah to get better. So TOMORROW, I’m gonna make Mom go out ‘n’ buy us LOTS of cheerful presents — like neon chew toys ‘n’ a squeaky Little Buddy or two ‘n’ maybe a gift-wrapped box of Milkbones ‘n’ a pack of JUMBO wieners — so Delilah forgets about her aches ‘n’ pains ‘n’ romps around the Creswells’ garden with me. I CAN’T WAIT!!!!!!

‘N’ THEN, not a single week later, it’ll be Uncle Bob’s birthday, ‘n’ I gotta come up with somethin’ super special to make him laugh, ‘cuz, you know, it’s been a terrible summer for Uncle Bob. Mom says he’s far enough along the road to recovery that he can handle a visit from rambunctious Louie (as long as I don’t jump on his tender tummy), so I’m gonna haveta stretch my overtaxed knucklehead to figure out the perfect gift. (Mom says jumbo wieners WON’T cut it. I don’t unnerstand why. Jumbo wieners is ALWAYS perfect by my way o’ thinkin’.)

‘N’ THEN, MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL, MOM SAYS YOU’RE COMIN’ HOME, ‘n’ omigosh, I don’t know HOW I’ll get everythin’ done in time for your arrival. I gotta dig many MANY more holes in the backyard for you to admire, ‘n’ I gotta find where Mom hid your slippers so I can chew on ’em, ‘n’ I gotta make sure Tommy Lee don’t schedule me for patrol when you get back. (Despite my unfortunate layoff, WHICH WASN’T MY FAULT, I got paid vacation time comin’, so he better not try to put me on super duper red alert when all I REALLY wanna do is snuggle up with you ‘n’ Mom on the couch ‘n’ take a coupla Sunset Hikes ‘n’ — don’t forget — squeeze in a boys’ night out!) So in preparation, I gotta rip up a few quilts ‘n’ fingerpaint mud all over the kitchen floor ‘n’ carpets ‘n’ pore through Mom’s cookbooks for recipes with extra meaty enhancements ‘n’, oh yeah, sneak some of Mom’s old makeup outta the medicine cabinet ‘n’ cover up my persistent boo boo so’s you don’t think I need a trip to the vet (which I know Mom is still contemplatin’, even though I tore up ‘n’ down the hall today like a mad dog, so, see, there’s NOTHIN’ wrong with me!).

 So many many MANY things to do! Mom has been a real SLACKER this summer, ‘n’ all of the projects she planned for fixin’ up the house has kinda been neglected while we took care of Uncle Bob, ‘n’ she hasn’t even painted over the leak in the dinin’ room from last winter’s ice dams. ‘N’ the storage room back behind the ironin’ board is JUST a mess, ‘n’ the public bathroom is disGUSTin’, even to me, ‘n’ the flowerbeds is overrun with weeds, ‘n’ there’s barely room in the garage to park Mr. Rav, much less Miss Corolla, too (say, can we take a ride in Miss Corolla when you get back? I kinda miss the smell of the old girl!) ‘n’ there won’t be no grillin’ on the patio until all the debris of summer has been swept away ‘n’ geez, have I mentioned the cobwebs hangin’ from the ceilin’ over the bed? ‘N’ oh golly, there’s so much dog slobber ‘n’ spider poop on the windows, it’s a darn shame. ‘N’ ooh, I think my Little Buddies need a bath, ‘cuz they’re even startin’ to stink to me.

So as you can see, I got a VERY full schedule in the three weeks ‘n’ two days until you get home. ‘N’ it’s all gotta be done around a rigorous schedule of hikin’, ‘cuz Mom has some seriously dimpled thighs, ‘n’ I don’t think she’s shed nearly as many pounds this summer as she has in the past, so I gotta do somethin’ about that so’s you’re amazed by her svelte profile when you get home instead of disgusted by her secret potato chip indulgences.

WHEW! This makes me tired just thinkin’ about it! So I’m gonna sign off ‘n’ drag Mom to bed so’s we can rest. ‘Cuz tomorrow, we start a SERIOUS regimen of Preparin’ for Pops’ Return.

Oh, golly, I can’t wait! The end is near! There’s light at the end of the tunnel! 

Woo hoo!

Your ecstatic,

Louie.

Pops replies:

Oh, Louie, I don’t know how you keep so many things straight inside that knucklehead of yours. But you do. Why? Because you reduce life to its most basic things. Jumbo wieners. Little Buddies. Patrolin’ the perimeter. Keepin’ Mom safe. You truly are the WBD!
 
Pops.
Published in: on August 22, 2011 at 1:23 am  Leave a Comment