Sometimes on Saturday, after an unfortunate early morning run-in with the pony sized Shar Pei that reminds us of Dracula, we like to spend the afternoon glued to our lookout post upstairs—watching and waiting for his re-emergence so that we can alert our parents, and the entire city for that matter, that we are under siege.
Stand Back Ma’am I’ll Take Care Of This,
Detective Pete Paranoid
Maniacal Staring Division
Barking Precinct #67
Sometimes on Saturday, after a leisurely, cuddly morning spent whispering sweet Happy Birthdays into our mother’s ear, we like to think upon the wonder of her. The way she surprises us with our beloved Greenies after our 6:30 AM morning poopie walks. The way she says “Hey Sweet Pea!” every time we turn a corner and see her standing there. The way she rubs our tummy and massages our back and fiddles with our ears in a way that makes us turn to puddy. The way she breaks up little pieces of roasted turkey into our evening meal, knowing that if we had one thing to survive on, it would be roasted turkey. The way she pets us and whispers loveliness into our ears. The way she takes us on endless walks, all the while telling us we are her good boy and that she likes the way we prance along. There are all these ways that she shows us that she loves us but what she doesn’t know is that we wake up in the morning eager to see her face and we fall asleep in the night time remembering the way she gently told us how special we are as she tucks us in for sweet dreams.
Life Can Be So Good,
Greg of the Most Grateful
Sometimes on Saturday, after an exhausting morning watching our mother figure out which Thanksgiving side dish will go in what serving bowl, we like to wrangle her away from what appears to be a stress-filled road headed straight for Anxiousville and grab a mid-afternoon snuggle which inevitably involves her interrupting our special nappy time by talking to no one in particular about the redeeming qualities of Yukon Gold vs Russet Potatoes.
Make Her Stop,
Ned the Neglected
Sometimes on Saturday, after we put in a good couple of hours at our upstairs post, waiting to bark at the people and animals and leaves and plastic bags and toddlers in strollers that go by, we like to make sure that our mother knows we are doing our level best to keep the homestead safe by flashing her our I-Got-This-Covered look, knowing that if that 700 pound Rottweiler should happen to charge our fortress she will be there to help us.
Yours In Occasional Back-Up,
Sometimes on Saturday, after we’ve spent the entire afternoon binge watching Olive Kitteridge with our mother, we like to contemplate all the subjects our mother is always droning on about—such as loneliness and forgiveness and compassion and most of all that people do the best that they can in their own way—and we try to tell her that we understand where she’s coming from and we love her truly just the same.
We’re All In This Together Right?,