Heidi in Real Life

Hello.   I’m a dignified 8-year-old Corgi named Freya.   I am Krista’s dog, and I adore her.   But on Fridays, Krista goes God-knows-where and leaves me home with “grandma” (her word, not mine).   Grandma calls it “Fridays with Freya” and it’s special spoiling time for the two of us.   Ugh. Grandma talks to me only in the world’s highest possible squeaky voice, asking me questions that I’m supposed to answer.   Here’s an example: “Who’s the best puppy? Say “I am!””   I’m especially annoyed when she asks me open-ended questions, like, “What do you think?”   I’m middle-aged, I don’t have time for this baby-talk nonsense.   There are times when Grandma leaves me alone at home.   I am totally fine with the peace and quiet of being alone (I’m very mature).   But, because I’m a rascal, I hang my head low when she comes back, and barely move.   She sits down with me, pets me and then I roll over for a belly rub.   If she tr...

I start to write, “SDF seeking NG (nice guy) who….”  and then my hand cramps. I’m tempted to se nd out signals to someone who is embodies the complete opposite of the men I’ve been attracted to (and married) in the past.  That would mean I’d be looking for a poor, stupid, short, stocky, blind man with an organ-grinding monkey, who hates kids and dogs.  Not that there’s anything wrong with blind men. How would that read?   SDF seeking PSSS-BM w/OGM-HKD. My criteria has seriously changed over the years.   I might be seeking someone to be my Euchre partner who likes quiet nights AND who goes where he belongs at night (or when I’m tired, which ever happens first).   When I say the evening is over, you gotta get up outta here. It’s been 31 years since I went on a first date.   Back then, I was looking for someone who sparked my interest.   Now, my pilot light is so dim now—a spark might incinerate me!   It’s funny what ceases to be i...

The fur is really flying in Springfield, OH, as citizens, interested parties and especially pets of voters are enraged and taking it to the streets this election eve.   Many of the pets are out on the front lawn with signs: “The Haitians were GREETING us, not EATING us!” Haitian immigrants can be seen outside too, hugging the cats, dogs and hamsters… and not in a creepy way .    Pets of all size and shape think they can influence the outcome of this election.   Forget about Iowa, folks.     Where the atrocities of false rumors have been spread, they must be addressed and avenged.    “The Haitians have come here due to our low cost of living and plentiful jobs,” said Fido, a mutt, “and they’re friendly to us.   They eat mainly starch anyway, not meat.   Be afraid if you’re a navy bean!” “Yeah, I saw a bald eagle flying around the other day.   Now, they will eat us!” said Rufus the hedgehog, shivering. Donald Trump, lured...