This morning, as I was struck by lightning while scooping my dog’s crap off the sidewalk, I was surprised to find that not only was I scarred with a smoky image of Parade Magazine cartoon character HAROLD HUGE on my left buttock, but that I also had the ability to SPEAK WITH
AND INDEED UNDERSTAND
the animals.
So please…tell me the name of your pet and what your question is and also what your offering to me is (preferably something from IKEA, or a lemony dessert) and I, the Electric Pup Goddess will answer.
Lieu. Lucky is an angry dog, angrier than most. He’s telling me…yes…yes…he’d prefer one of those carts with wheels on it, and perhaps a bell or two. And what about a flag up top so he can feel kicky and young again?
And please, stop blaming your farts on him.
Fred is a shy turtle, and he’s a bit nervous to tell you that he doesn’t like you balancing different items on his back to impress your family and friends. The pitcher full of Sangria was just too heavy, and he may have pulled a groin. But he does it all for you. Don’t you see that? He loves you like only a turtle can love a homosapien. Embrace that love and cherish it, but know that Fred will never be the wild extrovert that you thought he would be. Perhaps a turtle massage is in order?
Due to a little squabble regarding…well, frankly, his breath, Scooter and I aren’t speaking to each other. And you can tell him I said that. If he doesn’t know why I’m mad, I’m not telling him.
Chloe chloe chloe. She tells you she’s psychic, but really, she just can’t turn herself away from the Weather Channel. Jim Cantorre is so handsome to her that she almost wishes, I SAID ALMOST, that she was human. It’s sad really, because if she WAS human, think of how damn hairy she’d be.
My question: (okay they’re not pets) Why do the spiders on my back porch insist on trying to get in my hot tub? Don’t they know they will just drown? It’s just so icky fishing out spiders with my little blue handled strainer thingie.
My offering: A plate of lemon squares to munch on and a pitcher of iced tea to sip on while sitting in the hot tub. The strainer will be nearby for spider fishing.
Rory. Rory. RORY. (he has a short attention span) Rory has a ‘thing’ for green peppers. Green bell peppers. He craves them like a SoCal girl craves tofutti. In his dreams he in a lush velt, five foot high green pepper plants wave in an African breeze, shaking the fruits free of the branches and into his slobbering mouth.
I didn’t say Rory was smart, or knew anything about Africa, I just said he liked green peppers. Put some in his Pedigree Lamb and Rice bits TONIGHT!
But here’s a secret message from Rory, that he said only you can translate:
“that one time? That time you pretended to throw the ball but didn’t? And then laughed when I ran a few feet after the invisible ball? That was mean. I cried later. Just so you know”
MY GOD Chicken…Akira is moaning in agony!
THE BIPED KILLS THE BIPED KILLS…RIPPING MY LIFE FORCE FROM MY PAWS WITH NOT SO MUCH AS A TEAR SHED.
MY GOD THE PAIN…
OAAAAAAWWWWWWWWw…DEATH. …the sweet release of death will end these grooming sessions…where oh where is the lithe spirit that will bring me to a land where CATS are gods and are toes are free to grow as the HIGH SPIRIT NATURE INTENDED??? MUST I suffer a torture worse than Anna Nicole’s panty liner? Must I be your clawless, broken bitch?
STOP! STOP! My lungs collapse with terror as you pull my defense away and throw it in a tin, Oakland A’s trash can. HOW DARE YOU, biped. HOW DARE YOU…
First up is my puppy Romeo. I’ll give you a lovely Rosalinda throw from IKEA. Does Romeo really miss me while I’m away at school, or his he secretly bitter when I come home because it means he can no longer sleep on my bed?
And now for the tough one, which, if you can answer, will win you a Vimma mirror from IKEA. Indiana the Cat: What’s the deal with Indy and white stuffed animals? Why must he drag them out into the hallway and then defile them?
My kitty’s name is Stinky-Toes (yes, I know, a disadvantage to start with).
My question: Why does she sit at my feet and stare up at me until I make eye contact with her, at which time she cranes her neck slowly towards me. I think she is trying to tell me something via psychic means but I am unfortunately too thick to get it. Please help.
My offering: LEKSVIK buffet with top cabinet (and lemon Pledge)
Romeo…romeo…(oh but you knew I’d make that joke) :: insert raucous laugh track here :: But seriously.
Romeo is a bit…well, how do I put this…fey. He…he has a flair for the dramatic, he likes BOOTIES, he’s … attracted to a bull mastiff with humongous testicles that he saw last week at the gas station. In other words, yes…he misses you when you’re away…But only because it gives him an opportunity to stare longingly out the window with big, huge, tearful eyes, suitable only for black velvet paintings and sparkly t-shirt iron ons.
But then we have Indiana. Indiana actually, is mad at you for dragging HER personal life into the “virtual hallway” and defiling it there.
HOW’S IT FEEL NOW, BITCH? TO HAVE YOUR SOUL BOURNE BEFORE STRANGERS?
ahem
Stinky Toes, prefers to be called Knuckleneck. I don’t know why. And the secret message is…
The last day of my job was yesterday. There was a dog there that I became very fond of, his name is Jake. He loved it when I scratched under his nose or on his back and petted him for long periods of time. He also loved it when I gave him beef jerky and pretzels that I would snack on from time to time.
My question is will he notice I am gone and miss me as much as I’ll miss him?
