Gentle Readers,
It has come to my attention that the good people of my fair city of the New York are not able to ride around in their underground cars today because they have been struck. Or something has been striked – but I don't think by an underground car or bus. I'm not really sure. I just know that today I cannot hear them rumbling under our apartment, and Morgane is most pleased as it means she will not have to spend as much time hiding under the dresser as she usually does.
What I do know is that I, Mordred T. Dog, am a large, capable, and most exceptionally strong canine citizen, and I am offering rides and roller-skate pulls for the price of head pats and being told that I am Good. I also encourage my fellow four-legged New Yorkers to assist in this time of crisis. Toy breeds – offer your services as pocket-warmers to walkers who cannot find their mittens. Herding dogs – patrol the crosswalks, and assure safe passage for two-leggers. My Size-Large brethren – offer rides and tows to those who are weary and/or small. Poodles and other highly-groomed show-pups…um…look pretty. It will make for festive holiday transit morale.
We shall all face this as a pack, and prevail, or my name isn't Mordred T. Dog – Irish Wolfhound at Large/The 23rd St Crosstown Local.
M.T.D.
Hi nice friends!
Well golly. Now that Mr. Mordred has gotten all brave about how much he loves butter and that nice Miss India Chihuahua-Husky (I've met her as well, and I agree that she smells almost as yummy as Daddy's hamper!), it just might be time for me to put on my brave-girl pants. No, silly – I'm not talking about not hiding under the dresser when Daddy runs the carpet steamer (though that does frighten the kibble right out of me), I'm talking about taking a big, scary chance on something I have wanted to do ever since I was just a tiny little whippet puppy: I want to be one of Mr. Santa's Christmastime reindeers.
Sometimes when Daddy goes away, he leaves the television machine on for Mr. Mordred and me, 'cause he knows that Al Roker makes us feel safe and warm, and all anyone seems to be talking about is Mr. Santa and his bag full of eggnog and video game machines. I could help him! I am skinny, and have spots like a pretty reindeer, and I can run really, really fast for a long time so everyone can get their Christmastime packages, and I can get petted by awake, new friends from all over the world! I even heard that sometimes there are cookies left out and I really like cookies, but I wouldn't be selfish – I would save a whole bunch of them for Mr. Mordred who is big and handsome but can't run quite as fast as I can, and doesn't look like a deer.
I know that it is cold at the North Pole, but Daddy's friend the Girl who sits close to him on the couch just brought me a new, fuzzy leopard coat that matches hers, and I would do almost anything for lots and lots of pettings and shareable cookies.
If I fall asleep in Daddy's Jeep and wake up in the snowy place again, I will find a deer and ask her if she can help me apply for the job. In exchange, I will ask Mr. Mordred not to bark at any of her friends for several days. This will be very hard for Mr. Mordred, as it is one of his most favorite hobbies, but he will do it for the love of both me and cookies.
Cross your paws for me!
xoxoMorgane The Christmastime Whippet
p.s. Tell me what you want all your two-legged and four-friends to have for the holidays, and I will whisper it in Mr. Santa's ear.
