Indoor Plumbing for Dummies

Dear Flash,
I know, I know. I haven’t written for a while. But, my friend, your behavior…
For the record: Jay is first and foremost a human, and secondly he is my husband. Therefore, when he chooses to engage in certain hobbies, there are few restrictions aside from money and legality. Take, for example, his collection of scale model fire engines and related paraphernalia. He does so of free will and with my complete support (so long as said collection is stored neatly in Jay’s office and dusted regularly). But you, my friend, are a canine and as such have certain limitations placed upon you.

Please be aware that the presence of a fire hydrant as part of said collection and displayed in said office is by no means an invitation to you to use it as indoor plumbing.

You, sir, have been placed on notice.

Love, Nina

I Wonder as you Wander

Dear Flash,

I have previously remarked that your legs are only 4 inches long.  Sadly for you, it snowed 6 inches this past week.  I say this only because you are still required to go outside in order to do your *ahem* “business”.

Now, as you know, I am certainly no statistician, and am not prone to conducting scientific polls.  Informally, however, I could not find one single male acquaintance willing to strip down and run around in snow slightly higher than their…um…waist.  One or two cringed visibly when asked if they would consider…uh…relieving themselves in said snow.  When I threw in a scenario (a la A Christmas Story) involving snow, the possibility of “lifting one’s leg” on a metal fence post, and the resulting…shall we say “adherence”…of a certain appendage to said post, well, some actually passed out.

Spring is just around the corner, I’m sure.

Love, Nina

Medicine Man

Dear Flash,

You are a goob.

Since the cold weather set in,  you have been limping around like an old man.  We know from experience your Glucosamine helps.  For days I have been trying to get you to take it.  I have put it on top of your food, in your food, and under your food.  I have sweet-talked and baby-talked and cajoled in ten different ways.  I have crawled on the floor and begged you to take it.  When these measures caused you to scurry under the bed and hide, I pursued you even still for your own good.  I did everything but coat the pill in butter and fry it in bacon fat.

Finally, I gave up.  I was determined the pill would lay at the bottom of your food dish, your nemesis until the end of days.  Then the cat started licking it.  And at age 12 1/2, became agile as a kitten.  I decided to start giving him the remainder of the pills in the bottle, in my glory that they would not be wasted.  And wouldn’t you know it?  The minute the cat showed interest in it, it suddenly became your heart’s desire.  You are now begging me for more.

You are a goob.

Love, Nina

 

Whirled Peas

Dear Flash,

So there I was sitting around lamenting about the stuff I got for Christmas when I really should have been asking for more noble things, like peace on earth, good will to men, etc., etc., etc.

Jay was awfully quiet, but I presumed getting tired of my whining because he got up and went to the kitchen without a word. The next thing I knew, he had the blender out of the cupboard and something from the freezer. Jimmy Buffet songs were running through my head as I anticipated that frozen little concoction that helps me hang on. With little ado and much noise, Jay presented me with (ugh) a bowl of green goo.

Trying to hide my disappointment, I asked him what it was. He replied, “Just what you asked for. Whirled peas.” I looked at him like he was from the moon, and began to express my thoughts and feelings. So he took the bowl and dumped the contents onto the ground. “Peas on Earth, like you wanted.”

And that my friend, is the story of how Jay got arrested by the pun police and you got a whole belly full of deliciousness that looked like it came out of the wrong end of a cat but tasted much better.

Happy New Year!

Nina

 

 

Dear Santa…

Dear Santa,

I have been a very good boy this year.  Relatively.  From a certain point of view.  Please fill my stocking with any of these things, which I have already tested by rolling in them previously:

10.  A dead snake.  I found my first one in Challis, Idaho, when I was only 8 weeks old.

9.  Deer droppings.  Scared them right out of that silly deer.  Also in Challis.

8.  Catnip.  The cats were doing it, so why not?

7.  Fish guts.  Right behind the backyard by the pond in the park.  Mom made such a big deal over it.  Sheesh!

6.  Lipstick.  That one I had to steal out of a girl’s purse while her boyfriend petted me at the skateboard park.

5.  Raspberries.  (Hahaha.  Mom panicked, thought I was bleeding.)

4.  Chewing gum.  That one made the “chewed on it” list too.

3.  Dirty laundry.  I’d do it again, if they’d let me near it.

2.  The cat.  I would get by with it, too, if the cat didn’t squeal like a sissy.

1.  (Drum roll, please)  The freshly fertilized flower bed.  You can call it eco-friendly if you want, but steer manure still smells like, well, manure.

Love, Flash

PS: I left milk and cookies out for you.  But then I ate them.  What can I say?  I’m a corgi, after all.

 

Missed it by That Much…

Dear Flash,

Sad state of affairs, this.  You have been passively-aggressively complaining about the cleanliness of your bed for days.  I have watched you bathe it until I thought your tongue would surely be sore and raw.  I have seen you snub said bed for one of my clean fuzzy blankets.  You have futzed and putzed and whined and groaned.  So finally I gave in and went to the trouble of stripping, washing, drying, and enlisting Jay’s help to properly fluff your bed.  At first at seemed as if you would be satisfied, dare I even say approach a state of nirvana?  But then, alas!  A sideways glance and the tongue comes out again.

Love, Nina

Rho rho

 

Dear Flash,

I imagine, in your mind’s eye, that this is a completely justifiable outcome.  The household must have been in imminent danger for you to behave in such a careless manner for the ornament to drop from the tree and shatter on the floor.  You know, like a cat sitting on the window sill looking out at the birds, and needing to be chased back to his bed.  Then again, judging by the pose you were striking as I was trying to clean this up, I imagine you would prefer I think this had nothing whatsoever to do with you.

Love, Nina