Friday, May 25, 2012

I Don't Want to Know

Dear Readers,

As you know, the sudden death of Hell Hound has left the Christies in mourning for the better part of three weeks and, as a certified Life Coach, I have been counseling my Lady through her grief. While she does not feign innocence, I am beginning to feel quite alarmed, as she has been blatantly bookmarking local shelters online and virtually stalking certain hounds currently in the prisons.

During yoga I brainstormed ways to keep my life dog-free.
"What you are feeling is hell hound withdrawal my Lady," I told her last night during a session. "Take one antacid and smack yourself hard and fast six times across the snoot. That's what I did the time I licked the booze-laden Christmas jello and started head-butting Hell Hound. It works, I promise!"

However, my Lady was not convinced, and pausing from her Internet prowl of stray mongrels, she expressed her desire for a sloppy Basset Hound. God Forbid!

"I will pack my bags and walk out that door if you bring home one of those AND ...," I began to threaten.

"And what?" my Lady challenged.

"AND I will take my little governess- the pigtailed Christie- with me," I said, knowing THAT would stop her.

"What? No way, Norman!" She insisted. "Besides," she added, "Your little governess wants another dog too. She draws pictures of dogs every day at school."

I gasped at the betrayal, and, sensing the threat of having to live with another hound, I spent my morning yoga session devising a plan to keep my life dog-free.

When those Christies came home from the dinner hunt tonight I heard some strange talk, however, that made me feel a bit uneasy. While my Lady cooked the meatz, she spoke of a handsome, smart, good, furry boy that she met today. AND SHE DIDN'T MEAN ME! She called him Indiana Jones and the little Christies were running around setting things up for his possible arrival. There is a woven basket of balls in the den and some sort of prison crate with a very comfy bed inside. The secret camera that I glued to the little boy's shirt captured pictures of who the family had been conversing with earlier that day. I think I will confront my Lady tonight and ask her if a dog is coming. If this is true, oh sorry day!

-Norman Whiskers

Could this mongrel be coming to ruin my life soon? The newest member of the Christie family might just be Indiana Jones the rescued chocolate Labrador Retriever!

4 comments:

Milk Man said...

Tomorrow Indy arrives! Nice shorts in the background.

Anonymous said...

i dont like to comment, but your post made my day and so i shall!

Putz said...

ANON ABOVE ME SHOULD IDENTIFY HIM HERSELF, SINCE HE, OR SHE IS SUCH A FAN<><>MAYBE HE IT SHE IS AN ALIEN

Loren Christie said...

I don't know who that is Mr. Putz. I suspect it is an English person since they use the word "shall" more than I ever will here in New Yawk!!!!!!!

Dear Internet Traveler,

Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.

Fondly,

Loren Christie

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