On the Subject of Feets.

When I was a puppy my feets seemed to be pretty cute on my little legs, looking sort of like cotton balls with toenails. Everyone thought they were just precious, expecially when I putted them out behind me – Mom calls that the Otter. I wonders what an otter is? Perhaps it’s what Mom means when she says “Skeezix, you otter not lift your leg on the bird cage.” Yes, that’s about my leg, but legs are what my feets are at the bottoms of.

My feets started out with stunningly pink and black markings on soft, soft pads. Now I think I am needing some Dr. Doggle’s feets powder an’ perhaps some of dat stuff dey call ‘call us’ remover. Now I’m not sure, but I thinks what ‘call us remover’ meanz is dat it’s a way for me to ignore Mom when she stands out on the deck an call me to come ins. When I don’t wanna do dat, I could sure use something like dat so I can stay out an watch me frens the deers.

Back to the subjeck of my feets. There are thingies on the ends of my toeses that I hear mom refer to as “toe nailz”—so far as I can tell, there are no nailz on the ends of my feets. I am now wondering if deez nailz are related to the Taxes that mom was fussing over last weekend? Taxs are a kind of nail, right? OK then, what exakly is it I’m supposd to be nailing? Mom says my nailz scratches the piney floor. So I guess the pointy end of my toes an’ the nail partz are sharp.

As an aside, I wanted to mention that word up der that I just used: ‘weekend.’ Dat is a words that I am skittish about. It makes me nervous and worried. ‘Why iz dat,’ you asks. Well, Mom sez to me: let’s go for walkies dis weekend. I ask you: how can I walkie if my end iz weak? Iz it that I am having butt trouble at the tender age of 23 months? How can dat bee?

My Sissy, Angel Emily, had the weekend problem last year an Mom had to take her fast to the neurology vet in Winston Salem. Why would she take Emily to be seen by two cigarettes? Mom hates cigarettes an yells at me when I pick up a butt. There, see? The weekend and the butt must be related somehow or other. When Sissy Emily went to see the 2 cigarettes, the doctor said dat Sissy Emily must have surgery immediately or she would not only have a weekend but she would have to use a cart. What iz a cart? I will ponder dat, Dear Reader, and explore it in a latter missive.

Sissy spended time down at the cigarette place an came home with no hairz all over her topside, a long, long zipper thingie up her back, an her back feets moving funnyishly when they moved at all. She had what Mom called 'gone down in the back.' So I thinks Emily did the 'sit' command too long an so her taily, butt, pants, and feets went to sleeps. Finally, when Mom did what she called PeeTee for a long time Sissy walked again just almost like new. The zipper thingie disappeared. Sissy didn’t have to wear sunskreen any more, an Mom gave away Sissy's ruffled little sun shirts.

What I wants to know is what is this thingie PeeTee? In my humble opinion--as humble as a magnificent cardi such as me, wif my big taileeoo an my fantastik pantz can be humble, dat iz--no one wif a grain of scents would wanna drink that kinda tee unless they were very desperate. I have never been dat desperate, but, because I am a civik-minded dog, I do try to leave sum of this tea in lots a places, especially around fire hydrantz, in case any dogs who happen by wif extreme de-hi-drashun can helps themselves to a drink of peetee.

An, moreover, how can a scents be a grain? It seems oxymoronic to me. An I won’t even try to figger out how an ox can be a moron at the same time, excepts dat they can do sum incwedably moronic thingies from time to time, like making that huge sound that is not a mooo but a moo wif a few screeches in between the first mooing part and the second mooing part.

Mom calls the ox sound a bellow, which I think is funny because I sleep on a bellow every night an it has never made one sound let alone screech.

Mom is a very funny word girl to my way of thinking. She says that there are so many words out there somebody needs to be using them or they’ll get to feeling lonely an left out. Is “left out” a baseball term? I like baseballz to chase. In fact Mom offen askz, “Skeezix, where is your baseball? Was it left out?” So that makes scents because dat ball will be feeling lonely left out there.

I am having troubles building my vocabulary, but I will continue to work on it cuz I wanna be able to understand my Momma as best as I cans.

Well, Dear Reader, I have to signs off now cuz Momma wants to play hedgie with me an I alwayz play it with her because she seems to like it so much. Why anyone wants to toss something away an have me bring it back to them when the thingie is currently already in their hand is beyond me . . . kinda like the hedgie will be beyond me whenever Mom throws it away.

More later,
Skeezix . . . who typed this thingie all by himself today to let Momma rest her fingers—maybe that is why we don’t have fingers cuz our feets work all the time taking us places. Strange. An Momma doesn’t walk on her pads dat have the fingers sticking out. So how can her fingers even gets tired at all? It iz indeed a puzzlement.

PS If you are worrying dat I forgots about feets, have no fear. I will take up that subjeck again soon. We haven’t even gotten started on the many other fascinations of my feets.