DEAR BONNIE

Literate for a Day — Someone or something you can’t communicate with through writing (a baby, a pet, an object) can understand every single word you write today, for one day only. What do you tell them? (Thanks for the suggestion, Chic Prune!)


Dear Bonnie,

I know you are a Scottie and have an inbred tendency to attack life head first. It’s charming, in its own way but I’m going to suggest it’s time to moderate your behavior.

Bonnie - 8

Lately, you’ve been showing up in the house looking like Druid Dog. You’re so covered with leaves and twigs and stuff, it’s hard to recognize you as a dog. You look like a piece of the forest floor that has grown legs. Also, attacking the hall gate by ramming it with you head can’t be healthy. Doesn’t it hurt? It’s not helping the gate stay on its hinges either.

I’m sorry that we can’t have all of you sleeping in our bed, but the bed isn’t big enough and you guys are all much too icky and smelly; frankly, we are too old.

Bonnie Resting

And finally, there’s the whole matter of treats. We humans are not as stupid as you think we are. We do remember having given you a treat mere minutes ago, so hitting us each up for another if we are near the kitchen, is ruining your credibility. How can we trust you when you lie to our faces?

You cannot have an unlimited number of daily treats. It’s unhealthy and will make you fat. You wouldn’t want to lose your girlish figure, now do you?

Bonnie - 1

I’m glad we had this opportunity to chat.

Tomorrow the well guy is going to be here and we will have to do some serious negotiating about not running up into the road. And not getting in the way of the big machines, or falling into the well (that would be really terrible). It’s just one day … surely you can behave for that long, can’t you? Please?

TAKING A HINT

ATTACK OF THE ELECTRICAL GREMLIN

Garry was on his way to visit his brother in New York. He got a late start … too much last minute stuff, too much time checking email and sipping morning coffee. When finally he got on the road, it was almost noon. He was a couple of miles from home, heading for the Mass Pike, when the electrical gremlin hit.

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The right side rear window went down and refused to go back up. Finally, after some wiggling of switches, the right rear window closed. But the left one promptly went down and refused to rise again.

Why? Who knows? The mystery electrical gremlin, the bane of modern computerized cars had struck. It has happened before. For no reason.

Garry called and said he was coming home.

When the car was in the driveway, I went down to see if I could convince the system to reboot. I opened and closed windows. I jiggled switches, turned things on, turned stuff off. I turned the engine on, off, on.

Locked and unlocked the doors. Eventually, the gremlin was exorcised, disappearing as mysteriously as it arrived.

Garry had enough.

“I know how to take a hint,” he said. He called his brother and rescheduled. Next week is looking good.

WHAT’S FOR DINNER?

My enthusiasm for cooking is at an all-time low. I’m not sure why, but it may have something to do with 45 years of cooking meals for husbands, children, family, friends … even myself. But, like it or not, dinnertime arrives everyday.

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I am left staring into the freezer wondering what to defrost. We just went shopping, so there’s a choice. My fallback position is frozen pizza, but we’ve eaten too much pizza lately.

As I stood there pondering, a package of frozen Italian-style turkey sausage flew out of the freezer and landed at my feet.

“Okay,” I said. “Got it. We’re having pasta and sausage for dinner.”

I too can take a hint.