My dog and I have an advice column that we run from our blog, but nobody ever writes to us for advice. I take this in stride, but it upsets Goblin terribly. She feels inadequate and starts to put on weight, and I cannot pull her away from her soap operas. Sometimes we steal letters from Miss Manners and the late Ann Landers, and this cheers her up a little, and she will change her dress, comb her hair, and join us at the table for a civilized meal.
If you would like advice from a wise Boston terrier, you can write to us here.
Sorry about the commercial, but Faustus is coming home today, and I do not want to write something so interesting that it competes with his account of the gay cheerleaders’ ski trip. I could easily do so. I could talk about the time I had to drag my ex-boyfriend across the border from Mexico in a shopping cart, or how my ex-roommate’s Felix the Cat doll committed suicide, or the festive year I did not take any holiday decorations down.
But maybe I will save those for my own Upside-down Hippopotamus. Which you should all link to and read every day and tell all your friends about.
