Loofa Palooza


Dear Flash,

As a child, it was not uncommon for me to spend the night in the hayloft of the barn with 40 of my closest cousins. I grew up in Butte, Montana, where a typical night of entertainment in high school was a tire iron fight on the main drag. I worked my way through school in bars and restaurants, many of them in areas of limited sophistication. I had an internship in the ER, working with people with mental illness and substance abuse problems in moments of crisis. I presently serve Alzheimer’s patients for a living. I have been married for 30 years. I really was beginning to think I had probably seen everything. Until now.

Where in the name of all that is Holy did you find the loofa, and what process in your little pea brain made you think it was a dog toy? Did you use it to scrub the butt feathers off of your hiney? Please tell me you did not use it on either of the cats. And most importantly, where is it now? On second thought, don’t tell me. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know the answers to any of these questions.

You continue to amaze.

Love, Nina




Sour Puss

Dear Flash,

You, my dear friend, are one of the most indiscriminate beings I know when it comes to things you are willing to put in your mouth. Amongst the things I have seen you eat lo these many years: used gum laying in the gutter, fish guts, and at least three kinds of poop. I have seen you lick your butt, cat butts, dirty mud puddles, and the bottom of the barbecue. You clearly covet the trash can and all the glorious mysteries within. So why is it, then, that you react with such aversion when presented with a bright, fresh, delicious lemon?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Love, Nina


Jekyll and Hyde

Dear Flash,

Let’s get a few things straight. You, sir, are a dog. And a little fox-faced bunny-butted fluff ball at that. You have presented me with a cat toy. A fuzzy faux-mouse with pink ears. And you did this all with enthusiasm and full-body wagging. All that was needed was a girl-dog eating spaghetti while cheesy love songs were playing to make this a scene right out of a Disney movie. So when I do not throw the toy for you, it is waaaaaaaay too late to try to intimidate me by getting your fierce on.

Love, Nina



Fart in a Skillet

O Flash the mighty, Flash the brave

Your flatulence I wish you’d save

For another time, another place

So’s not to waft into my face.

I’ll be polite and call the smell

Skunk within the bowels of hell.

Your butt cheeks flap when you pass gas,

I think the odor has a mass.

Did something crawl in there and die?

It brings a tear into my eye.

The paint is melting from the wall

The floor caught fire in the hall

The cat passed out, the houseplants died.

The haz-mat team has just arrived.

The EPA imposed a fine

For cutting cheese without the wine.

You are such a goofy mutt-

I just saw you lick your butt!


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



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.



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