All posts in Saturday SlobberLove

Saturday SlobberLove

SatSometimes on Saturday, after my brother and I have caught and eaten a beautiful yellow butterfly, much to our mother’s uproarious dismay, we like to take a self-imposed time-out by cuddling with our favorite toys—not moving an inch as she continues to judge us as murderers. And during this no-move-is-the-best-move time we like to plead with her to forgive us our trespasses because we know not what we have done.

Yours In Everlasting Forgiveness,
Charles Chompers

Saturday SlobberLove

chewchewSometimes on Saturday, after we’ve politely endured a whole week with our new little brother¬†we like to take the morning to grab some alone time and dig into our precious Froggy with all the chew-tastic energy that exists within us. And while we’re chomping and ripping and gnawing and thinking that life will never be the same prior to when this other little guy came into our homestead, our mother enters the room rather calmly and snuggles up to us and asks us the usual questions about how we got so handsome and what makes us the Best Guy in the World and suddenly we get that deep knowing feeling in our tummy that everything will continue to be just right.

Yours In Feeling Worthy,
Irv Important

Saturday SlobberLove

joyjoySometimes on Saturday, after a wildly successful early morning jaunt around the neighborhood involving our favorite regulars, we like to express our joy and pride with our self-satisfied smile, because we know that when we don’t lunge and growl like a lunatic at the innocent pups that cross our path, it makes our mom very happy.

Have a Nice Day,
Ken Congenial

Saturday SlobberLove

squirrelsSometimes on Saturday, after we’re ambushed on our morning stroll by a gang of warmongering squirrels, we like to have a strategy conference with our mother in order to prevent being made a fool of again.

Onward,
Lou the Lunging Lunatic

Saturday SlobberLove

JHCFor J.H.C. on April 4

Muttering At Your Grave

In those moments
that make and umake days
when I can’t live
I do it for you—My dead one

Unafraid is how I picture you now
Next to the stillness
and the wrongness
that we so often discussed

With you holding up
your end of the conversation

I choose to know
that you did this
because of your love for me

When you listened to my stories
it might be that
that was the thing
that kept me from dissolving

You knew it so clearly
like how the night blanket
wraps around me—
a cloud
or a compass

In your telling
of the way you saw the world
I saw myself in the planets
and how very important I was
as long as you were here
describing me