Is there anything better?

Is there anything better than coming home from a long evening of drinking to discover a dog happy to see you and a couple of Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs?

I’m not sure there is.

Why Mrs. Wigglebottom Got Divorced

Bridgett sent me a story so lovely that, upon hearing it, I realized that this is probably the story of why Mrs. Wigglebottom got divorced.

See, a while ago, there were two dogs who were great friends, Jake Wigglebottom, a regular yellow dog, and Tiny Pastures, a German Shepherd.  They liked many of the same things–lying, cheating, stealing, chasing women, and talking bad about charming feminist bloggers–and they got along swimmingly, except for when they were trying to cheat each other.

One day, Jake Wigglebottom came to Mrs. Wigglebottom and said, “I’m going to have my friend, Tiny, over for dinner.  Woman, you make us up these two livers and some carrots and some dog treats.”

“Two livers?” asked Mrs. Wigglebottom.  “Then what will I eat?”

“Eh, I don’t know,” said Mr. Wigglebottom.  “I guess you can eat whatever Tiny and I don’t.  Hey, you know, two livers may not be enough.  Tiny sure loves to eat.  I’m going to go out and hunt some ducks and see if I can’t bring home some more for us to feast on.  You keep cooking and, when Tiny gets here, you make him feel welcome.  But keep an eye on him or he’ll try to climb on top of you.  That’s his favorite thing.”

As Mrs. Wigglebottom watched her husband trot off, she thought, “I know who else likes to mount every bitch he comes across–my good-for-nothing husband.”

Anyway, Mrs. Wigglebottom settled in to cook the livers and they smelled so delicious that she thought, “I could try a teensy bite.  If I don’t eat it now, I’ll never get some, because they’ll eat the whole thing.”  And so, she set out to eat a tiny bit and accidentally scarfed down both of them.

Yes, she ate both livers.  And they were delicious!

“Shit,” she thought.  “What will I do now?”

And just then, Tiny arrived.

“Where’s my good friend, Jake?” Tiny asked.

“Out,” said Mrs. Wigglebottom.  “But he’ll be back soon.  Sit here and rest a while.”

“Out, you say,” said Tiny, as he slipped his hand between her legs.

“He told me you’d try that,” said Mrs. Wigglebottom.  “He told me not to let you.”

“But we’re such good friends,” Tiny said, as he scratched behind her ears and rubbed under her chin, “Surely he wouldn’t mind,” and soon he was way up, up inside her.

“Damn,” said Mrs. Wigglebottom.  “That feels good, but hurry.  He’s soon to be back for dinner.”

“Yum.  What are we having?”

“Meat,” said Mrs. Wigglebottom thoughtfully.

“What kind?” Tiny asked.

“The same kind we serve all our guests–balls.”

“Balls?”

“You know, testicles, balls.  We serve our guests their balls.”  And with that, Mrs. Wigglebottom picked up a sharp knife and began to chase Tiny around the kitchen.

“Are you mad?” he yelled.

“Hold still!” she cried.  “It will only hurt for a second and you’ll like it, I promise.”

“Wait!” He hollered.  “I meant to bring some beer.  How rude of me to forget it!  I’ll just run to the store!”  And, like that, he ran out of the Wigglebottom house.

Just then, Jake returned from his hunting trip, empty handed.  “Mrs. Wigglebottom,” he said, watching Tiny run off.  “What’s gotten into that crazy friend of mine?”

“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Wigglebottom.  “He just barged in, grabbed the livers, and ran off with them.  It happened so suddenly I didn’t know what to do.”

“He’s got both livers?”

“Yes.”

And, with that, a hungry Mr. Wigglebottom took off in pursuit.

“Tiny, Tiny! Wait!” he called.  “Leave me one, just one.  I’m begging you!”

“Jake, my man,” Tiny hollered back, “If you catch me, you can have them both!”

Ha, that tickles me.  Needless to say, as the boys were running around the hillside, Mrs. Wigglebottom chose that moment to leave her marriage bed and the house of her husband and strike out on her own in the world.  And hurray for that!

[See here for the original.]

Who Has it in for the Concordia Lutherans?

Someone did a number on the Concordia Lutheran street sign last night.  Yesterday, it stood on its metal pole pointing you to the Concordia Lutheran Church just two blocks off Murphy Road.

Today, the pole is a twisted mess and the whole thing is sitting in a heap next to the hole it used to stand in.

Mrs. Wigglebottom was very curious.  We had to sniff everything and she spent the longest time studying a clump of dirt.

I know dogs like routine and order.  But I have to say, when it was standing, she never seemed to pay that much attention to it.  So, it’s curious to me how curious she was about the sign now that it’s not.

I would love to know what she was thinking.  It almost seemed like she wanted me to put the sign back in its hole, but I explained to her that I could not bend metal. 

Perhaps she’s worried that, without the sign, no one will be able to find their way to their semi-annual pancake breakfasts.

If I know the Lutherans, though, they will find some way around this.  Perhaps some kind of sing-in.  People will drive around with their windows open following the scent of maple syrup and the sound of “O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing” in order to find their churchy breakfast.

But my point, which I did have, is that there appeared to be no marks on the sidewalk and no damage to surrounding trees and posts, which means that whoever hit the Concordia Lutheran sign made no effort to slow down once he or she left Murphy Road and went careening up on the sidewalk and, once finding the intended victim, made no effort to slow down after hitting it.

That, my friends, is very curious and I hope that person is not driving around when I’m out walking the dog.