Hello. I’m Milly, and I’ll be writing today’s column. I know you were all expecting to hear from Mitch, the bald-headed guy who lives at my house. He says he has a lot of work to do, so I agreed to fill in. Remember, I’m a springer spaniel, not a writer. But I’ll do my best.
I’m excited about this opportunity. I know he writes a lot about me in his columns. Some of it is good, and some of it isn’t. I figured this would be a good chance to set the record straight on a few things.
For instance, he’s constantly complaining about me shedding and him having to vacuum it all up. What did he expect when he got a long-haired dog? If he didn’t want to vacuum up hair, he should have gotten a Mexican Hairless. Besides, he’s just jealous he can’t produce this much hair.
But really, is it that big a deal? I mean, he has to vacuum occasionally anyway, right? It can’t be only my hair that gets sucked up. We all make a mess sometimes. You don’t hear me complaining when he leaves dirty dishes in the sink for three days.
He told me one time that he wanted me to learn how to run the vacuum cleaner. Ain’t gonna happen. For one thing, I don’t have opposable thumbs, so it’ll be hard to hold onto it. And for another, that sucker – no pun intended – is frightening. If he wants to run the vacuum, that’s fine with me, but I’ll be hiding under the bed where that thing can’t get me.
He also complains about me sleeping in the bed with him. I know I have a nice crate, and he conveniently has placed it in the bedroom, so I’ll be near him. But let’s be real. Dude went out and bought a brand-new, comfy mattress not long after I moved in, then he gave me a half-inch-thick pad to sleep on.
Sorry, but if sleeping on the floor is such a grand idea, let him do it. It’ll give me more room in the bed, anyway.
I appreciate that the bald guy takes me on long walks. We have such a good time together, and I really like it when we get to walk in the park over on Lake Lanier. I love the water, and he nicely lets me go swimming a lot of the times. Of course, he later complains that I smell like a wet dog. What the heck does he expect me to smell like? A bouquet of spring flowers?
We have our share of arguments when we are walking, too. He gets mad at me when I try to chase squirrels.
“You’re not going to catch that squirrel,” he loves to say.
Well, of course I’m not going to catch it as long as he’s got me on that dang leash. But let me off the thing for a few minutes and I’ll get rid of all those pesky squirrels.
Who wants to have a squirrel around anyway? Ever gotten a good look at a squirrel? It’s just a rat with a furry tail. Good riddance to the rodent varmints, I say.
Anyway, I’ve had fun writing this for you. Maybe I’ll write again next time the bald guy is busy. In the meantime, he’s worked long enough and I’m ready to play.
Excuse me while I go drop a tennis ball in his lap. Maybe he’ll get the hint.
