Dear Olive,
I am so sorry I let you down.
It’s that dog, you see.
We’d just come in from a walk.
I’d refilled my coffee cup and was attempting to eat my breakfast.
Standing in the kitchen of course.
Per usual.
When I realized he was no longer in sight.
And I couldn’t hear him chomping on ice cubes.
That’s trouble.
Next thing he comes ‘round the bend from the dining room.
His favorite naughty noodle place.
Well, one of them.
And there you go.
A little gnawed at one corner.
Your cover nearly ripped asunder.
My sincerest apologies.
You deserve so much better.
Like a spot on a higher shelf.
Higher than The Dog Zone.
I will see to it.
Right after I gently and gingerly see to your wounds.
I’ll be as unobtrusive as possible.
Clear tape it is.
You are a fine piece of literature.
Pulitzer Prize Winner, and all.
Doggone that dog.
He knows he’s in the dog house.
a.k.a. on leash inside and tethered to mommy stuck in the kitchen.
That’ll show him.
Please forgive me, Olive.
I remember you.
You’re a complex woman with a hard shell and a big heart.
I found you a fascinating character study.
(Hoping flattery might get me somewhere…)


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