Have I told you about my Daddy and the tallness and the smartness and the nice-smellingness? I probably have, but sometimes I forget things. I feel so, so bad saying one thing that isn’t entirely nice, though, but maybe I will forget also that I did that. At least I hope.
That thing is that while when Daddy sees me shivering from being skinny and not very furry when we are inside of the doors, he will wrap me up in a soft blanket, or walk over to a magical button on the wall that makes the cold go away, but when we are out of the doors on our walkings, he has not yet figured out where that button is, and the cold stays and laughs at me and makes me sad. I wish I could run back to the inside of doors where the warm and my blankets live, but Mr. Mordred is big and majestic and covered in lots of fur, and these things mean that he sometimes takes a long time to decide what place will get to host his potty-time. I know that is an important and royal decision, and the places all want to be that place, but that does not help me not shiver a lot. Some people and dogs might think that it is a cute or funny thing to see, but mostly it is just a cold thing, with no funniness added.
So if you see my tallsmarthandsome Daddy, and you know where the out-of-doors button for warm is, will you please show him?
xoxoYour cold and shivery friend, Morgane
p.s. Maybe if you see my Daddy, could you ask him to click here for the Weather.com Pet Cast that will tell him and Mr. Mordred when it is not as nice to have skinniness outside?
I know that in this year that is new, Mr. Mordred said that he would like to be a dog who has thumbs so that he can be of more help when it is time to reach food that is high up and times when we want to make Mr. Anderson Cooper be in the television machine (which is always). I think it is nice of him to be so full of help, and I am certainly always liking when there are snacks and Mr. Anderson Cooper, but I do not think I would be good at having thumbs. I am much all-over closer to the ground than Mr. Mordred is, and the things that I could reach and hold onto with my thumbs are probably not things that I would want to have my thumbs on for very long. Plus naps are very nice, and when you do not have thumbs, no one one needs you as much to help them with things, and that way more naps can happen.
It is not that I am lazy and do not want to help. It is just that it is already very tired making being small and skinny, and I want to keep being good at it.
While I realize that some of you may have come to regard me, Mordred T. Dog, as a calm, cool, elegant fellow with an appreciation for life's rarified pleasures – a sip of Chateauneuf du Puppy, a nibble of a Ferragamo loafer, a whiff of Kennel No. 5. - what you may not guess is that even I can become as giddy as a Chihuahua at the prospect of sinking my teeth into a new challenge. No, it is not simply the upcoming multi-park promotional tour for my poetical volume "Heaves of Grass" (though that does delight me so). Rather, it is that I have at long last arrived at the solution as to how I will best be able to be of service and assistance to my Daddy in areas in which I have until now required his assistance (i.e. food acquisition, certain wipings, typing, self-walkery).
It all comes down to thumbs - of which I have always to this point had zero. This, my friends, will be the year that number is enlargened for Mordred T. Dog. I know not how. I know not from whence. All I know is that it will be so. And they will be appropriately splendid.
Hi nice friends!
Gentle Readers,
