Swede William Speaks

[Regular readers of this blog will note that I rarely dare -- presume -- to put words into the whippets' mouths. But. Every rule is made to be broken.]



Ja. My world is topsy-turvy upside down. The crazy servant has flipped her big bottom and I suffer as a result. You read my saddest story and tell me what to do.

I am an honorable dog who loves the life, ja? You ask anyone, I love all. Strange hairy dogs hump me and do I bite? No I don't. I don't bark at doggy visitors outside our fence, no. Besides, I am the best show dog ever, see this?

Oh the handsomeness of me. See the Judge? He is saying, "Never have I seen such an excellent example of whippet perfection!" He was so overwhelmed he nearly fainted. And the servant. Just look at her beaming with happiness and pride and big belly bursting. Ja. Swede William you're so wonderful. I hear that all the time from the wacko.

Now, recently our servant has got some kind of lostheimer's disease. She does not wait for me to gently wake her up with my lovely songs to make us breakfast. No. Now the dumma feta kossa gets up before light and leaves us. Day after day. And then she can't find her way back to us until long after dark.

It is a great concern.

So, being a good kind dog I try to help. I mark my glorious essence all over the house so she can smell her way home. Does she say Oh Swede William I thank you for your generous sacrifice of your precious bodily fluid for my safety and well-being? Does she say that? NO!

She puts a torture bucking strap on my private delicious parts!!! (Hide the young puppies' eyes from this next photo which will make their dreams too frightening.)

First it was every dog with a winky. Now it is just me. The torture.

And then last night when she went to teach MY class at MY Kennel Club and FORGOT TO TAKE ME, once again I did my best even with the bucking strap around my marvelousness to help her find her way home. I marked upstairs and down, soaking the torturous madness fastened around my spectacular bits.

Did she thank me for my efforts?

No she did not. She showed me where my helpful fluids were decoratively sprinkled. And she flipped out. I haven't seen such abominable behavior since I suggested to Luciano that he share his rawhide chewy. She told me it was unacceptable. That I knew better, dammit. That This has to stop.

Here I am with my head on her enormous hind leg. I tried to tell her I was trying to help. My girlfriend, Teka, pointed out that for all anyone knew Luciano could be getting back at me for that chewy incident and he could be peeing on my bucking strap to incriminate my perfectly innocent Swedish self.


I have one thing I would like to say to the servant.

I don't know how to say it in English, but in Swedish it is phhhfffftttt!! And there is wetness involved.

Oh I won't because I am a good dog. But how do I let my servant know that her being lost is unacceptable. That she knows better, dammit. That This has to stop.

What's a dog to do?

hump your humans, especially the lostheimers ones