You're Welcome

Okay, world. I may not be the most attentive person when it comes to minding the puppy in our house. It’s true, I was in the room “watching” Farley when he chewed up one of Sarah’s AllBirds.

Okay, yes, it’s true, I ignored Farley’s insistent whacking at the “I Need to Go Out” bells that hang from our back door, and only looked up when I heard the steady flow of puppy pee on our family room carpet.

All right, I was outside keeping an eye on him when he slipped behind the azalea to “do his business” in private. Okay, okay, I know, I should have kept him from eating a branch off the azalea and then taking a few nibbles from that “business” he had just produced. I get it, I’m not really fit to dog sit.

But here’s the thing. Today I showed tremendous alertness, speed, and dexterity as I raced into the dining room, dove under the table, and with the dexterity of a surgeon, extracted the Notorious RBG doll that Sarah got for Christmas this year from the jaws of our mischievous and apparently Alt-Right puppy this afternoon.

On the off chance that it is some kind of voodoo doll, I have to apologize to Justice Ginsburg. The trip from the couch to the floor inside the mouth of a lumbering and perpetually hungry puppy must have been harrowing. But you seem to be fine. The lace on your collar seems unharmed, and your hair is still pulled back into its perfect bun. I sincerely apologize.

And to you America, I say, “You’re welcome.”

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