I’m a little crabby these days. Yeah, I know, Labrador Retrievers are famous for being nice. But, I ask you, how nice are you when you’re on a diet? That’s right. Marilee’s hubby (and my former best friend) decided my waistline had disappeared. News flash: I DON’T NEED A WAISTLINE! MY FUR FITS JUST FINE!
So anyway, he has this plastic glass with a black line about three inches from the top. He measures my food and I don’t get one single morsel above that black line. Now doesn’t that sound a little anal to you? In the meantime, I have to scarf up the crumbs underneath the table. So undignified for a dog of my noble lineage. Things are looking up, however. I heard the two of them talking the other day. Marilee said, “I think Mauli’s waistline is coming back.” He said, “Yep, the diet’s working.”
Hold it! My keen doggy senses just picked up the sound of a reduced-fat Cheez-It hitting the floor. Gotta run..
Well, she did it. Against all odds, Marilee found a street named after her book, Moonstone. Oh, wait. Maybe the street was there first. Doesn’t matter, though. Here’s the real story behind the pictures, as told in first person. (Or, is it first dog?)
I was there at the photo shoot, observing it all through the open car window. Since Marilee was holding the book and posing next to the sign, and I don’t have thumbs, the Mister was drafted as chief photographer. He was not a happy camper. The star of the shoot kept giving him unsolicited advice such as, “Be sure you get the street sign.” “Can you see the title of the book?” “Use telephoto . . . please.” When smoke started streaming out of his ears, she finally gave the poor guy a break.
Is a third in the works? I sincerely hope not.
Thank God I don’t have thumbs.
Do I smell peanut butter?
Mauli the Muse, signing off…