I realize that I have been yammering on about my blog and internet friends and quoting letters from Ceecee without pointing out that in the world of hounds I am rather a celebrity. Not because I have keen wit—not JUST because I have keen wit—but because of a recent development too. That is my news! The Council of The Canine, in their last meeting of the year (which doubles as a Christmas party), decides which dogs will advance a level within the community. Because of my blog and the advice I hand out, I was made a dage.
A dage, for the ignorant, is a dog who is a sage and a mage—working magic through wisdom. When you are recognized as a dage the giving of advice and succour now becomes a vocation. As a result, and moreso than before, much of my e-mail is from those who need help. To shorten the process I will share some of this mail now as there are lessons to be learned by all.
Dear Leo
I live in a city where they use any fucking excuse to have fireworks and these scare the shit out of me...literally. It always sounds like a war breaking out. My people think I'm a big pussy and laugh when I shake and scream at me when I shit. What can I do? (I am a three-year-old male, though, mutilated, boxer, living with a pair of lesbians who have scary wall-hangings which they call ohkeaps).
Nervous
Dear Nervous
They are actually called O'Keeffes and they scare all males. As to the fireworks, it doesn't just sound like a war, it IS actually a war—people's war on Nature; piercing the sky, filling the air with chemical smells, blinding the wildlife. (Nature fights back with lightening, picking off the Humans—a few at a time—with forest fires and on golf courses). Here's the thing: if we don't fear death we don't fear big noises. Sure, we jump, but we don't have an ongoing fear. So embrace the noise. Love the noise. It is nothing. Now big winds...those are fucking scary.
Dear Leo
My people fuck a lot and everywhere and there is nothing more annoying than hearing (or worse, seeing!) people having a good time when they've cut your balls off. What do I do? (I am a seven-year-old male pug/poodle mix living with newly-marrieds.)
Pissed
Dear Pissed
A pug/poodle, eh? You must be one ugly mofo. Anyway, you have to cut newlyweds some slack as doing it often and doing it everywhere is what they do. Soon, you'll see, she'll be sucking the mailman and he'll be pulling late nights at work which means he's porking his assistant. It is a dog's duty, if the newlywed foolishness goes on too long, to stop it. I find shitting in her Blahniks or chewing up the condoms brings a couple back to the real world rather fast.
Dear Leo
I am an unspayed bitch who had a litter about a year ago. My people kept one of my pups, a male, and now the little bastard spends his time with his nose up my cooter. I know in our world this is okay, but it's getting on my nerves because he's snorfling about down there even when I'm not in heat. Help me please. (I am a beagle/jack mix. The little one is a Heinz 57. Our people are a family of six in the suburbs.)
Poked
Dear Poked
A Heinz 57 and a family of six...lots of sluts in that household. Here's what you do (after you give me your home address): wait until Christmas and as your people are sitting down for a fine, big, fance dinner (this works better if grandparents are invited), go into the dining room (scooting a trail of scent for your boy all the way). Then lie down on your back in full view of all, spread your legs, and let Sonny go to town. Before New Year's Day he'll have another home or a little less meat between his own legs.
So you see? The profound wisdom is everywhere. No wonder I am now in the élite.
I take my own breath away.
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