Thursday, September 01, 2011

Dear Bruiser,

Today, in the mail, I found the following:

I once believed--when I thought about it, which was not, truthfully, very often--that you could not read. But who knows? You're now getting mail, addressed to you. With some news for you, Bruiser!

I'm sorry to say, though, that the news is a little presumptuous. In this newsletter, there's a coupon:

I don't know what "senior" means in Dog, but around here, when we hear "senior," we demur. We protest. We flat out deny. I am speaking of myself here, obviously.

And when we were out walking today, I thought, how can they say "senior"? to Bruiser? Because you were cantering and prancing and, in fact, took me for a little drag when a small, yappy dog behind a wooden fence had a thing or two to say. It was impressive, B, I just want you to know I felt your vigor--was, in fact, moved by it--and I thought, I don't know if a so-called senior dog would have that kind of gumption.

I say, let the people keep their labels to themselves. Labels cannot contain you. (I am speaking of myself here, obviously.)




  1. I am interested in what that male model in the flyer thought when he found out he was posing for dog mail. Did he see that coming when he was a young boy dreaming about his future?

  2. (Too funny, Ann.)

    Thanks for the grin this morning. I so love the letters of the htms - their lightness to compensate for the less and less light of lovely banner. Though I have to admit to a lurch of regret that August is no longer available here.



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