Sunday Simon

Dear (insert name of my vet tech pal),

I need your help. Something seems to be wrong with my bum and Mom and Dad are frowning at me a lot. I've always been a scooter when it bothers me, but lately I can't stop myself from licking my hindquarters constantly. I've not wounded myself from the licking but it sure smells bad and makes my fur matted while the female yorkies are turning their noses up at me.

Mom thinks my anal glands or something otherwise unpleasant is the possible culprit. She tried to do something called "expressing" them with help from the wise people Google and you tube offered but it didn't have the explosive effect and seeming relief that other critters have. She's not sur what's she's feeling but there is a hard lump in there, almost as if I need to potty but am impacted, but I'm not impacted and poop just fine - except lately I'm doing this in the house which I've not done since I was a baby 13 years ago, the change in my behavior upsets Mom and grosses out Dad.

Would a doctor help me for cheap? Mom thought a groomer would be an idea but we looked at each other and got a little nervous, decided that was too dicey. I feel ok, and behave just like I always do, except that I don't want to raise and wag my tail very much.... I'm protective of that area, but not in a mean way.

Any ideas on how I might feel better without bankrupting mom and dad? I've had my eye on a bone larger than myself for months and I'd hate to blow my entire allowance if I didn't have to.

Thank you,

Simon "The Russian Pickle" Morgan.
(translated by Kylee Theodore Morgan, she's bi-lingual and is fluent in Russian)

- ps - I'm very tiny - only about 5 pounds and shrinking with my age, so I was relieved that Mom didn't consider the internal solution and making me hurt.

-----

Next day, Mr. Pickle went to doctor with Mr. Morgan. I was on shit cleaning duty for 3 days - so he could take one for the team, of which was not appreciated. I reminded him that 6am ass detail sucked too, so bummer. Simon went in and had his glands "expressed" of which I'm told were extremely vocal and rode in on a glittering rainbow of expressiveness. Whatever came out made Mr. Morgan gag from the words of it, he wouldn't even join our boy in the room. He was told it was thick and "very bad."

The Pickle came home with a Whole New Lease on Ass!, as the commercial goes... kinda.

Got his bone, but how to eat it?

Next day he got a haircut. Me too, and I can't claim my skills are any on better on him than they are on myself, but it's free and it makes him look much younger.

All I said was "treat"

Team A bonus photo. Team B would be Simon and myself, as we are the slower two of the pack. I SO SO SO do not miss that house. Just seeing it in the background of the below photo makes me want to go wash my hands.

Someday, Maybe... with dedication start.

Saying I'm going to blog soon, while actually blogging is a retarded gesture that smacks of excuses no one cares about, but I'm doing it anyway.

I have moved. I have pictures! I have holiday gossip, stories and more shit talking to usher us into 2010 than anyone could hope for!

I also have black bags under my eyes, a weary directory of work clothing that is doing nothing to help me look anything less than second hand and sloppy, and finally a very shitty schedule which requires me to daily concentrate on when I need to get up and start kicking my day around as opposed to the monkey motion of setting the same alarm for the same time every morning. Same coffee, same dogs who need to go potty as a result of drinking every last drop of water from their bowl as the Discovery Channel channel programming have informed them the water supply on Earth is low. Or poisoned. Or poisonously fucking low. Whatever it is, Kylee translates to the Russian and both get nervous, fill their bladders and become MORE nervous they have no where to empty it and begin blaming each other for jumping the gun on the water shortage scare. This means more black eye baggage and bladder catering, ultimately being a facet of my fuck it lazy attitude to post a decent update and instead belly up a promise it's coming. With fireworks and dancing girls.

Yeah, I just blamed being tardy mostly on dogs who constantly need to piss. Sue me, it's totally true, but moving was horrendous, gross, exhausting, all during the holidays where I was slotted to go from house scrub to clean fingernails in an hour every day for the last couple of weeks. I was, am?, ready to pull my finger nails out just to sleep that extra five minutes and not wonder what I got into and why it's that color around my cuticles.

Cheers, tell me about your holiday, favorite gift? A story perhaps? I'll be next doing either a photo entry of the house and it's oddities, one of my gossip column o' observations, and a dedication one since it's the new year and overdue. All in time, meanwhile, ration your water, filling up to point of bloat is not the magic key to the doom upon our doorstep. I can't say that whilst annoyingly inconvenient, there is something about the expression on the face of a dog with a pending bladder explosion that doesn't give me a smiling pause. The panic look although quickly turns to "bitch I will piss right here if we can't reach an agreement." Fair enough.

For now, I will kick off one dedication early, for BLD:



My Burning Girl will get it. Only line I don't imply is the one about "him" being untrue, but I suppose that could be interpretive, untrue could be anything from addictions to habits to just being unable to not be a fuck up. Sometimes picking a vice isn't necessarily picking. You have a good thing, or fuck if I know - maybe a comfortable thing, and patience longer than a scain of yarn. As dysfunctional as anyone else, you bet your ass.... so remember walking in that Playa "sand" and smile on the good ok. People get misguided, they change, but vintage is vintage baby and letting go is over-rated and easily recommended too often. Your DM loves you many!



- DM