It has been sometime since I’ve attended a meeting of the Canine Chowder & Marching Society. I have to admit I miss the gossip, but lately it seems every get-together conflicts with my schedule.
Last meeting was held the same day Mrs. G went to the bank. Couldn’t miss that. The lady in the drive-through window is a real softy. She always gives me triple treats and if I look disappointed she doubles them up. Time before I had a case of the “Shags” … you know, a dog’s condition when his human looses the defurminator. I couldn’t stand thinking of all the comments that would be made about my coat. You know, the neighborhood dogs can be so catty! There was a reason I missed the meeting prior to the one before the last meeting I missed that wasn’t the last meeting. Or something like that. I’ve missed so many recently I can’t keep up.
My friend Lucy, the cocker spaniel, asked me to go. There was a motion to adopt a no peeing on the rose bushes rule that the lady Marching Society members backed and the male contingent opposes. You’d think the boys wouldn’t mind that little restriction on their lift and sprinkle, but no … Honestly, they are screaming like we were asking for universal castration. Male ego … Ugh! I decided to support my gender so I went.
We hadn’t gotten a place to sit when Fifi the poodle raced up to us and said breathlessly, “Did you know there’s a cat house on Pine Island?” Gossip! Wonderful, gossip!
I tried to act relatively uninterested and naive. “A cat house? I live in a cat house, or at least a house with a cat in it. What’s unusual about that?”
“Not that type cat house. The other type of cat house.” Fifi looked exasperated. Lucy looked consumed.
Lucy said, “Oh how exciting! What can you tell us about it!”
“Exciting?” I said. I ignored Fifi’s statement about another type cat. “What’s exciting about having cats in your house. I have one. Fifi you have a Siamese and Lucy your human has three. What’s the big deal?” Sometimes I get great pleasure from being obtuse. Maybe its a gal thing.
Fifi leaned close and whispered, “They’re two legged cats.”
I tried to look dumb and remain silent. Both are difficult for me.
Fifi forgot to whisper. “They’re whores!” Everybody at the meeting glanced our way. Fifi lowered her voice. “I saw four of them sitting at a table playing cards and talking about rubbers.”
“Are you sure about that?” Lucy asked.
Fifi was emphatic, “YES!”
I asked, “How do you know? Were they wearing fishnet stockings, short shorts, high heels, and driving Mercedes convertibles.”
“NO! They all were wearing tee shirts that said, I’m a proud Matlacha Hooker.”
Lucy and I laughed. I said, “Fifi, you’ve had a brain fart. The Matlacha Hookers are a lady’s civic club.”
Some dogs shouldn’t be taught to read.
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My human asked me to include some of his propaganda in my post. He feeds me so I figured I’d better.
I’d love to have all of you that can, visit me at the Matlacha Menagerie this Saturday from 10:30 to 3:00. This unique boutique gift and book shop is located at 4604 Pine Island Road. Matlacha is a quaint village located west of Cape Coral. The 40’s buildings and Bohemian decor are reminiscent of the “old Florida Keys.” Loaded with art galleries, unique gift shops, and sea food places, Matlacha is on the way to Florida’s Mango capital, Pine Island. Come chat for a while.
We had a great crowd at the Sandman Book Co. last Saturday. The attendees were enthusiastic and really into history. The type of people who attend these presentations prove my contention that READERS ARE THINKERS.
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