Pensive Lucy

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Somedays a bulldog just wants to look out the window, watch the world go by.


It's good if it's raining then.



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I am trying out a new fitness plan. Twenty hours of sleeping and one hour of enforced activity with the other dogs.



It was not my idea, I can tell you.


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Now, if you'll forgive me, my mom is making elevensies. Which means there will be fried egg whites waiting for me.


So later for you. I got something to attend to.



***

Who, me?

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The indignities never end.

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Okay, one thing is, they keep giving me baths. Which is humiliating enough. Except for the drying off part, which I have to admit is the goddamn cat's pajamas. But then they've been putting some nasty-ass flea medicine on me, which smells like the worst thing in the world times about a brazilian. And worse yet, this freaking neem oil shit that just smells like ass.

And not in a good way.

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Right now I'm in trouble because of another smell. Which is what. I don't know. It smells like a hundred thousand dead cows and there is some dead chicken in there, and also dead moles and some fish, smelt maybe, and I think a couple of old dead people, too. Plus some whale bones and elephant carcasses.

Bone meal. Blood meal. 

They put it all over the goddamn garden!

It smells like a freakin' slaughterhouse!

*

In a good way.

*

So, I got in there a little bit. Put my face in there. Right in there. Shit, I wanted to climb in and roll around, get it rubbed in to every square inch of me.

But a lady has to maintain a certain level of respectability.

So I just rooted around like a little piggie with my snout.

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MMMMM!

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Now I ain't allowed out no more.

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I ask you, where's the justice?

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And, yes. It's time for another bath.

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Bath. Blech.

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And another thing. What's with this bath bullshit? 

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I mean, a girl finally gets herself smellin' good and they gotta come around and ruin it. 

Not to mention the indignity of it all.

Really.

*

But there is a good part: getting dried off! 

Now you're talking!

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Mother,

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Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

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You are the best one.

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Let me tell you about my Mom. She always knows exactly what I'm thinking- what I need in the way of fresh water, more food, walkies, bathroom...you name it, she knows even before I do that I want that thing.

We have ESPN or something. She can read my tiny mind.

*

I like to sit on her when she knits. 

Maybe rest a paw on her thigh.

Sigh.

*

Thanks for being my Mom.

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Lying Liars and the Lies They Tell

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Okay, lookit. If I tell you I haven't been fed, 

then I haven't been fed, goddamnit.

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Those other dogs? Laying about, acting like their bellies are full? Napping in the sunshine on the back deck?

Fucking liars.

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I ain't been fed yet.

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It's a good thing for me I speak a little Puerto Rican. THE WOMAN always listens when I throw down a little bit of "Aye, Senora, tengo muy hambre."

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"Ese hombre no me dio ningun cualquier cosa comer."

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No estoy mentiendo.

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Pet The Ass

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Look, it's pretty simple. I don't know why I have to spell it out for you every time I see you, but you can be a little dense at times, so here it is again:


"Pet The Ass Part"


You want to squeeze my face? Kiss me? Grab my jowls and shake my head back and forth? Fine. No problemo.

Just do me a solid, man. Pet the ass.

*

You see me out there on the porch, rubbin' my butt on the bricks, on the sidewalk, on the welcome mat, on the chaise lounge and under the chairs, you gotta know I need that butt part rubbed.


It's not optional.

*


I'm just sayin, is all.



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Lookit Me

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THE MAN did this picture of me.

I think it makes me look fat.

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And in need of botox.

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