Description:
babblings!
Contents:
An open letter to Mattie, that other Airedale, the “Golden Dog” with whom I graciously share my space:
“My dear dog, I pose to you a question – What IS the difference between a dog and a hound? The answer – A thousand years of evolution. Respectfully yours, Barnaby ...
Opinions are like tails, everybody has one.
The good people at PoodlesSkirt tell me that soft and sensible, yes, but what about stylish? I have seen the spring shirts and I approve, despite some initial misgivings regarding the Hawaiian theme. Barnaby H. remains thoroughly chastened.
The PS Corporation has approached me to act as a consultant for the new spring line of clothing. I value my time and sent them packing with only this advice: “Something soft, something sensible.” See what they came up with, but for heaven’s sakes don’t hold me ...
I was worried that the PoodleSkirt stripes would make me look fat. The company assured me that this would not be the case. I trust them implicitly. Of course I do, they pay me to do so. Payment takes the form of rawhide bones and… there ...
Consider this. “Barnaby” is not a diminutive. It is a full name and CANNOT be subdivided (Hold your tongue—a “Barn” is a thing for chickens…) The name “Mattie,” on the other hand, is short for “Mathilda.” And yet who in their right mind would call ...
Have discovered that Ms. Maureen uses the name “Mattaby” as a password when she sits at her “glowbox” (my disparagingly clever term for that device the computer). I will have you know that in this house there is a “Mattie” and there is a “Barnaby.” We have no ...
Birds again. This time, the impudent blue jay. The birds scattered the moment I appeared on the scene. One of them had the gall to “titter” as I paced back and forth beneath her branch. I will not brook this sort of mockery. I find ...
Blizzard today. Mattie ran about like the great clod that she is, kicking up such a fuss and a good deal of white powder. What she owns in beauty (yes, yes, ANYone can win the lottery, it’s true) she lacks in finesse. The old girl doesn’t know ...
Resolutions were made to be unresolved. The Weaver boy’s delightful little sister crossed over onto our property bearing biscuits. Perhaps you are not unaware that when I am scratched under my beard just so, I am as putty in the child’s hand. But as I crunched upon ...
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