Not long now until Sprout's graduation. I told someone tonight that I just couldn't wait, and he had the audacity to bring me back to reality by saying "you might want to reconsider that...considering where they might send him next". I hate reality.
Monday, November 29, 2004
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
A Dog Writes to Boot Camp
Dear Sprout,
I had not planned to write to you while you were away because I know you are too busy to deal with a dog, but I feel I must write. Since you have left, my life has been unbearable. How did you ever pick these two people for your parents? If your father calls me "Poo Poo" one more time, I may have to bite him. Your mother is not soooo bad, but I can tell she likes the cat better than she likes me. She always feeds the cat first in the morning and she lets the cat sleep at the foot of the bed while I have to sleep on that stinky rug at the front door. AND THEN I hear her complain to your Dad that I stink. ME! Well, hell’s bells lady. What did you expect? I’M A DOG!!! And, it’s not bad enough that I have to spend my nights locked up in that drafty living room, but that clock...that God-awful chiming clock. Every friggin’ fifteen minutes, alllllll night long. I’m telling you - it’s enough to make a dog howl. So help me God - when I get a chance to walk on the carpet when nobody’s looking, I’m gonna pee on it.
At least when you were home, I had more freedom to go in and out. You were always so nice to open the door for me. And you gave me lots of scraps. They don’t give me anything. I’ve lost five or six pounds I’m sure since you left. My only saving grace is that I get to go outside during the day while they are at work. There I get to roam free...well... as free as a dog can roam in a 20’ x 20’ fenced yard. But hey, it’s something. At least outside I get to inter-act with the other dogs I hear barking from other fenced yards. From what I’m hearing on the grapevine, none of the dogs around here are happy since the City passed that stupid leash law.
I have had some time to do a little hunting since you’ve been gone, which is the only thing that’s keeping me sane. I’ve come close to nabbing a couple of those terrorist squirrels but so far, no cigar. Which brings me to the real reason I am writing. Do you think, when you come home at Christmas, you could smuggle out a couple of those live hand-grenades or maybe a claymore mine or two or three? I know if I had some C4 and a cell phone maybe, I could take out a few of those fluffy-ass squirrels. They are so annoying, flitting those tails around, scurrying up trees like they own the place. And I’m only one dog. I can only do so much. They have stolen probably 3/4th of the acorns in this yard. I just know your mother is gonna have a fit when she gets the Annual Acorn Loss Report next month. I am not looking forward to that.
Well, that spot on my butt is finally starting to clear up, but I still want to scratch it everyday. Your Dad yells at me every time I scratch...like he’s never had an itch. I swear Sprout, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Between the cat, your parents, your niece and nephew messing with my mind every time they come over...I’m being pushed to the edge man. I have to admit, I have thought of running out into traffic a couple of times. It’s bad man, really bad.
I know basic training is probably hard, but nothing can be as bad as what I’m going through. Your bright Dad has even decided that I should have a bath TWICE a week now. And it’s starting to get cold outside. God, I wish I could hose him down, just once!
I caught your mom watching a show on Animal Planet the other day called K9 Boot Camp. I have a feeling she’s thinking of trying to get rid of me just like she got rid of you. I’m really thinking of making a run for it the next time they leave the front door open. I got as far as Mrs. Shilling's house the other day before they caught me. Well, que sera sera!
Anyway, I’ll end this letter here. Luckily, Thanksgiving is coming up so maybe I’ll get some decent scraps this week. Lord, I hope so. Have you tasted the Walmart brand of Kibbles and Bits they are buying for me now? That stuff is nasty. Probably about as bad as those MRE things you get to eat. Yuck!
So, think about my request. I’ll pay you back somehow, dude. We gotta stick together man. It’s the only way we’ll survive. I’ll see you at Christmas.
Sincerely, your dog,
Shaggy
P.S. I’ve been checking on Ebay for anti-squirrel devices while your mother’s not looking, but so far I haven’t seen any good ones. I’ll keep searching anyway. See ya, dude.
I had not planned to write to you while you were away because I know you are too busy to deal with a dog, but I feel I must write. Since you have left, my life has been unbearable. How did you ever pick these two people for your parents? If your father calls me "Poo Poo" one more time, I may have to bite him. Your mother is not soooo bad, but I can tell she likes the cat better than she likes me. She always feeds the cat first in the morning and she lets the cat sleep at the foot of the bed while I have to sleep on that stinky rug at the front door. AND THEN I hear her complain to your Dad that I stink. ME! Well, hell’s bells lady. What did you expect? I’M A DOG!!! And, it’s not bad enough that I have to spend my nights locked up in that drafty living room, but that clock...that God-awful chiming clock. Every friggin’ fifteen minutes, alllllll night long. I’m telling you - it’s enough to make a dog howl. So help me God - when I get a chance to walk on the carpet when nobody’s looking, I’m gonna pee on it.
At least when you were home, I had more freedom to go in and out. You were always so nice to open the door for me. And you gave me lots of scraps. They don’t give me anything. I’ve lost five or six pounds I’m sure since you left. My only saving grace is that I get to go outside during the day while they are at work. There I get to roam free...well... as free as a dog can roam in a 20’ x 20’ fenced yard. But hey, it’s something. At least outside I get to inter-act with the other dogs I hear barking from other fenced yards. From what I’m hearing on the grapevine, none of the dogs around here are happy since the City passed that stupid leash law.
I have had some time to do a little hunting since you’ve been gone, which is the only thing that’s keeping me sane. I’ve come close to nabbing a couple of those terrorist squirrels but so far, no cigar. Which brings me to the real reason I am writing. Do you think, when you come home at Christmas, you could smuggle out a couple of those live hand-grenades or maybe a claymore mine or two or three? I know if I had some C4 and a cell phone maybe, I could take out a few of those fluffy-ass squirrels. They are so annoying, flitting those tails around, scurrying up trees like they own the place. And I’m only one dog. I can only do so much. They have stolen probably 3/4th of the acorns in this yard. I just know your mother is gonna have a fit when she gets the Annual Acorn Loss Report next month. I am not looking forward to that.
Well, that spot on my butt is finally starting to clear up, but I still want to scratch it everyday. Your Dad yells at me every time I scratch...like he’s never had an itch. I swear Sprout, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Between the cat, your parents, your niece and nephew messing with my mind every time they come over...I’m being pushed to the edge man. I have to admit, I have thought of running out into traffic a couple of times. It’s bad man, really bad.
I know basic training is probably hard, but nothing can be as bad as what I’m going through. Your bright Dad has even decided that I should have a bath TWICE a week now. And it’s starting to get cold outside. God, I wish I could hose him down, just once!
I caught your mom watching a show on Animal Planet the other day called K9 Boot Camp. I have a feeling she’s thinking of trying to get rid of me just like she got rid of you. I’m really thinking of making a run for it the next time they leave the front door open. I got as far as Mrs. Shilling's house the other day before they caught me. Well, que sera sera!
Anyway, I’ll end this letter here. Luckily, Thanksgiving is coming up so maybe I’ll get some decent scraps this week. Lord, I hope so. Have you tasted the Walmart brand of Kibbles and Bits they are buying for me now? That stuff is nasty. Probably about as bad as those MRE things you get to eat. Yuck!
So, think about my request. I’ll pay you back somehow, dude. We gotta stick together man. It’s the only way we’ll survive. I’ll see you at Christmas.
Sincerely, your dog,
Shaggy
P.S. I’ve been checking on Ebay for anti-squirrel devices while your mother’s not looking, but so far I haven’t seen any good ones. I’ll keep searching anyway. See ya, dude.
Monday, November 15, 2004
Me Again
Well, it's been 2 phone calls and 3 letters since I've posted last and Sprout is doing fine, if you can call enduring basic training "fine". All of his letters have been so mature sounding, I know he is trying to reassure me and it's working. I sent him pictures of his niece and nephew on Halloween - 4 year old nephew went as a soldier...what else? He is most impressed with Uncle Sprout's adventures. Sprout really liked those.
So far things have been fine until this last week. Yesterday he called his girlfriend and said he had hurt his foot and is really worried he may not be able to pass his final PT (physical training) test coming up soon. He asked us to over-night some special in-soles that might help with those dang boots that are made for walking. He never was a very good walker. Anyway, I think he may have just sprained the ankle and will probably be fine, but his anxiety is my anxiety.
Thanksgiving is next week and I'm trying not to mention it, but I know it's on his mind. He will be home for Christmas so he has that to look forward to. I wish I could do something to make this all easier for him. And watching the battle of Fallujah has not helped me any. I guess that is why I haven't written much lately. The reality that my child will probably go to a war zone hit me like a ton of bricks a couple of weeks ago. How will I endure those days? I guess I'll make a bunch of quilts.
On top of everything else, Sprout has yet to be paid. Oh, that lovely bureaucracy. I think somebody there got his account number wrong. They promise a paycheck NEXT payday. Humph! Well, if he ever does get paid, he should be fairly wealthy. It's been a great savings account if nothing else.
So far things have been fine until this last week. Yesterday he called his girlfriend and said he had hurt his foot and is really worried he may not be able to pass his final PT (physical training) test coming up soon. He asked us to over-night some special in-soles that might help with those dang boots that are made for walking. He never was a very good walker. Anyway, I think he may have just sprained the ankle and will probably be fine, but his anxiety is my anxiety.
Thanksgiving is next week and I'm trying not to mention it, but I know it's on his mind. He will be home for Christmas so he has that to look forward to. I wish I could do something to make this all easier for him. And watching the battle of Fallujah has not helped me any. I guess that is why I haven't written much lately. The reality that my child will probably go to a war zone hit me like a ton of bricks a couple of weeks ago. How will I endure those days? I guess I'll make a bunch of quilts.
On top of everything else, Sprout has yet to be paid. Oh, that lovely bureaucracy. I think somebody there got his account number wrong. They promise a paycheck NEXT payday. Humph! Well, if he ever does get paid, he should be fairly wealthy. It's been a great savings account if nothing else.
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