"Running Commentary"
Boulder McGraw, 4.0
Hello! I’m Boulder McGraw. Woof!
On the occasion of my birthday, the nice people at the Blade-Empire newspaper invited me to write another column – this is my fourth. And I don’t mean to complain, but I’m still waiting to be compensated for my first! No biscuits, no pats on the butt – nada!
OK, look – I didn’t mean to get into this, especially on my birthday, but here’s something that really bugs me. In the newsroom at the Blade-Empire, there’s a fat, ugly old cat named Bella who acts like he’s the friggin’ Editor-in-Chief. Well, everyone just adores Bella. Spoiled rotten, he jumps up on desks whenever he wants and gets pampered and petted all bleepin’ day. What a life!
Me? I’m just a 60 lb. underpaid newspaper columnist with a funny face – too big to jump up on desks, and Daddy no longer takes me into the newsroom for fear I’m going to widdle on the floor. (Ed. Note: Widdle is a Spanish word derived from ancient Egyptian texts. It roughly translates to “lose control.” As in, “Cleopatra’s puppy was sooo happy and excited, he widdled on Caesar’s new carpet.”)
I dream occasionally about being a cat. Not nightmares – just the opposite. I dream I’m a furry kitten sitting somewhere on a beach, under an umbrella, wearing sunglasses and sipping Pina Coladas. (I’ve never had a Pina Colada, but Daddy says it’s a healthy drink that has been known to bring people back from the dead!)
Anyway, doesn’t that describe a cat’s life? Permanently on vacation even though you never worked a day in your life. Your only job is to look cute and laze around on furniture waiting for someone to scratch your ears. You sleep all day, and you’ve never written so much as one complete sentence in your entire life because you couldn’t spell dog if someone spotted you the d and said it ends in g.
OK, enough of my ranting. Let’s shift to a happier subject – ME! Can you guess how old I am? Well, I’ll give you a hint – my Daddy is 74. Give up? I’m one! One year old. It’s a happy day – I feel all grown up inside.
The newspaper wanted to update my photo, so Daddy took me outside and asked me to sit for a snapshot. Sit? … Huh? I cocked my head at an angle and pretended it was the first time I’d ever heard the word sit. So, Daddy kept repeating the word, except each time he got louder.
“SIT! Come on, Boulder, I need a new photo – SIT!!”
“DID YOU HEAR ME? I SAID, ‘SIT!’”
Of course I understood; however, here’s the deal. I’ve learned I’m far more likely to get rewarded if I play dumb … and that’s what happened. Three minutes later, Daddy gave me a biscuit. So, without further ado, I sat. New photo? No problema.
Let me tell you about my Daddy – he’s really, really old. And I’ll throw a little bone to any younger dogs out there who may be reading this – the older someone is? The harder it is to train them. Take it from me, Boulder McGraw – play dumb. Repeat as necessary until you get a biscuit. Even your Daddy and Mommy can be trained. It’s an exhausting process. Just give it time.
Meanwhile, did you hear about Daddy’s little faux pas? We were almost out of dog food, so he went to Rod’s Market and bought … ?? Yep. CAT food.
Daddy didn’t notice the big cat on the package. All he saw were those huge yellow words: “Four Extra Pounds Free!”
It would be funny if it weren’t so sad. Either Daddy suffers from “selective eyesight” (only sees what he wants to see) or he’s going blind. He’s almost 11 in dog years – ancient! Please pray for Daddy’s eyesight to improve. Cat food tastes like grounded-up rubber tires.
When we got home, Daddy laughed about it; however, I fail to see the humor. I don’t want Daddy to get into trouble, but seriously – is it even legal to feed cat food to a dog? If there are any lawyers reading this, please check and get back to me. (But remember, this research is pro bono. I don’t have any money.)
I suppose I should give Daddy some slack – he’s easily confused. Recently, I saw him put on his sweatpants inside out – the pockets stuck straight out like a pair of Mickey Mouse ears. Daddy just laughed it off. One of his favorite words is: “Ooops!”
It’s good we live alone. We can grow old together.
By the way, do you think Daddy had any intention of returning the bag? Bleep no! He was out $15 and had already opened the bag. So to justify this little act of muddled befuddlement, he had the nerve to say, “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure the ingredients are pretty much the same.”
I rather doubt that! Lately, I’ve experienced something of an identity crisis. It’s gotta be the cat food. Increasingly, I don’t know whether to stand up and bark or curl up in a ball and purrrr like Bella.
No wonder I’m having weird dreams.
Well, that’s it for this week. Happy Birthday to me, Boulder McGraw! Send gifts, bones and dog biscuits to the Blade-Empire “in care of Boulder.”
I’ll chew everything in front of that damned cat.
Adieu! Ciao! Adios!
Editor’s Note: Translated by R Michael Owens from the original Spanish text. Rmykl@yahoo.com