You Won’t Believe What This Dog Brought Home

(Huffington Post headline)

We named our dog Ronald Reagan. Not for when the President had Alzheimer’s. Before that. The henna Reagan used in his later years? We dyed our Ronald the same color. It’s sort of an homage.

Our Ronald is a total publicity hound ha ha. He’ll do anything to grab another fifteen minutes of fame. “Dog Returns Home After 6 Years.” Remember that one? That was Ronald (dyed black). The story was that for six years, he was agoraphobic. Six years of therapy, he wouldn’t leave home. Then finally one day he walked down to the corner and back. Returned home for the first time in six years.

“Dog refuses to leave grave of master.” Remember that one? Ronald again (dyed white). The story doesn’t mention that I also refused to leave the grave, or that I had the dog on a leash. After a couple of days, Ronald was convinced that I had gone completely nuts. The wife would come down with her scooper and a plastic bag twice as big as usual.

Next, Ronald (dyed brown) brought home a kid’s report card. Nobody cared. He brought home an old lady’s social security check. Nobody cared. He brought home a human hand. A human hand is not easy to come by, legally or illegally. Nada. We were asking ourselves, who do you have to screw around here to get your story in the news? Fortunately, what with the 24/7 news cycle and everything, it was really just a matter of time.

Bad News For Sellers Of Petrified Cats

(Headline, Huffington Post)

Went down to my favorite gift shop today, to do my Xmas shopping. Got quite a shock when I saw the display of my favorite brand of petrified cats.

My plan this year, like every year, was to give a cat to everyone on my list. My mom and dad have gift cats from me going all the way back to when I was a child and tried to make some of them myself. Do my folks just drag all the cats out when I visit, and situate them around the house as doorstops and so forth, or do they keep them where they can be seen every day? I don’t know. I’m pretty sure the ones out with the garden gnomes are permanent fixtures.

Anyway, I get to the store and what to my surprise, my favorite rock-cat company has hired a sculptor (probably a building full of them in China. Nothing against China! I have some really great stuffed cats from China) to carve funny expressions into the feline faces. Even the Jesus, Joseph, and Mary cats were grinning. It’s an outrage.

A cat will expire with a particular expression on its face. Yes, I know that it’s a very sad moment. The expression may be one of resignation, sadness, calm, whatever. It is not for mortal man to alter it. How would you like it if you excavated an ancient pyramidal tomb, opened the sarcophagus, and found the pharaoh mummy inside sticking out his tongue at you? How would you like it to go to an open-casket funeral and… Well, you get the picture.

And while I’m at it, Uncle Sal, it’s not ok to use the cat as a boot-scraper by your back door. All, please do not use your cat as a nutcracker. Please do not dress the cat in children’s clothing – oh, I guess that’s ok. Please do not part out the cat to make lots of smaller gifts. Do not regift the cat.

So where do I turn? Petrified Chihuahuas? Petrified gerbils?

Nah, I guess this year I’ll go with the partially-petrified cat product.