Dear Dad,
I had to confess before
you saw me on the evening news. I've been busted. There was a loose dog complaint
on the door from evil Officer Ewald of animal control. I couldn't help myself.
I remembered those juicy rib bones from the garbage down on Miami Beach.
Lyn and Amanda are coming to my aid and are hard at work on creative plans:
1. Creating
a fake bomb to strap to my back so anyone who sees me won't get close enough
to read my tag.
2. Sewing a bright orange vest that says "Military test dog. Point to point
messenger project. If you see this test animal please note the date and
location and leave
a message at this number. 1-800-BITEME. Do not interfere with test unit in
any way."
3. Getting a variety of different color collars with tags that have overseas
phone numbers and addresses on them.
4. Different color bandanas, booties, and
doggie flight jackets as multiple disguises.
5. Spray on punk hair coloring for
applying camouflage spots and stripes.
6. Having me carry a frightening looking
vial around my neck with the words ebola virus printed on it.
7. A custom backpack
that has two overstuffed medical waste bins with lids that flop when I trot.
8. Only allowing night patrols since the old farts that reported me aren't awake
past 8 PM anyway.
In the meantime until some of my new outfits are finished Lyn
took me on a huge walk this morning in an attempt to wear me out so I wouldn't
have the energy to go get into trouble. When summer comes I'll get to go on long
trail rides with her and Lady so I'll really get worn out. She's also threatening
to break out her roller blades and make me run alongside when the ice is off
the roads. I'm toast. I'm going to have to be getting rid of this flab I've put
on from eating the bags of dog goodies I got in my stocking and will soon sport
a lean doggy 12 pack again.
Love,
Brutus