Sometimes on Saturday, after a solid one hour session of Chase-Chase-Chase-Wrestle-Bite-Bark-Chase, we like to teach our little brother how to sink into deep sleep—so deep that when our mother walks into the room, she wonders if we are still alive.
Yours In Zombie Slumber,
Dan the Drooler
Sometimes on Saturday, after our little brother breaks protocol and lunges at a passing jogger on our morning walk, we feel the need to counsel him on universal good dog rules such as no peeing on anything or anyone that moves, no barking our fool head off when we see the standard poodles that we hate, no intrusive sniffing of stranger’s crotches (this humiliates our mother beyond our comprehension), no pulling on the leash until we gag ourselves, no pooping on the sidewalk, no terrorization of innocent cats minding their own business, no eating anything!—not flowers, not bird poop, not other dog’s fossilized poop, not cat poop, not twigs, not plastic bags, not old french fries that someone dumped on the sidewalk, not anything. And when we’re done with our sermon and we’re sure he has listened to us carefully we like to reward the two of us with a rousing game of Don’t Let the Other One Jump On the Bed.
A Good Dog Is a Wise Dog,
Pastor Nice Manners
Sometimes on Saturday, after a fit-filled, sweaty sleep in the thousand degree heat, we like to lounge around with our little brother, positioning ourselves in such a way that the breeze from the fan goes straight up our nostrils.
Sometimes on Saturday, after a morning filled with equal mom play involving our brother and various toys that we have held close to our heart since the beginning of time, we like to enlist our mother in a game of Throw The Loud Yellow Bone because we know that this is our special interaction, considering that our brother is afraid of the unruly clunkiness this particular toy makes.
Fire In the Hole!
Sometimes on Saturday, after a soul satisfying game of run-run-run-wrestle-soft-bitey-chase with our new little brother, we like to school him on the subtleties of posing for the camera even though we are a tad worried that he does not understand the concept of hogging the foreground.
Yours In Patience,
Tim the Tutor