Tom Swift Writer’s Notebook

He’s turned my slippers into a mid-afternoon snack. Several times. He’s gone after my nose as though removing it might be fun. He’s kept me up nights. And woken me with his tongue. He blew the yearly puppy budget three months in.

But, for the first time, I became truly mad at the savage beast this week. As I was taking a weekend afternoon snooze, he decided to find out how my eyeglasses tasted. Good, apparently, because he chewed one end down to the metal, leaving a point sharper than the edge on most knives in our kitchen. And he didn’t stop there, treating the other side as though it was a chicken bone.

It was stupid of me to leave the glasses anywhere within his reach. I know this. Still, I cursed and stomped off and ranted around the room. I think he got the hint as he stayed away, walking past me gingerly, looking up with reservation, as if to see if things were OK. No, they’re not OK. Do you know how much those glasses cost? The fact you don’t understand English is not an excuse at this moment.

The next day I was handed a card. “I’m so sorry I chewed your glasses, Tom,” it said below his picture, the one included in this post. “Please forgive me. I wuv you.”

So maybe he had help writing out the card. But how do I stay mad at that face?

This post was added on Tuesday, May 13, 2008 by Tom Swift at 02:59 and is filed under Dog Days.