Thursday, February 21, 2013
Letter from Bruiser.
I am feeling much better.
Thank you for delivering all my medicine to me wrapped in ham, and thank you for letting me take it from your fingers without flinching.
Thank you for wrapping what you say is my last antibiotic in a piece of chicken this morning.
Thank you for sometimes taking my cone off. As you may know, I hate it. It brings out the nihilist in me. It makes me feel hopeless and despairing. And it's so huge. It's, like, Dada huge. Absurd.
However, I guess I'm not supposed to "lick" my "stitches." So I concede that the cone is necessary. Advisedly.
Thank you for letting me hop ever so lightly up to the chair and onto the bed. Thank you for watching Parks and Rec with me tonight, the double episode. I appreciated the company.
Please never put me in the car again, and please never take me to the Place From Whence Emerge Only Coned Dogs. Never again.
I prefer to watch for the guys who buy beer every day, and the kids going to school, and the families going to church. And the UPS guy. Especially the UPS guy. I think I'm in excellent shape for watching the street for them.
Thank you for the slightly longer walk tonight. I tried very hard not to caper excessively.
With love and many stitches,