Willy the teacup Yorkie here, writing from what the humans call “Doggie Camp” here in Whitefish, MT. Mom and Dad (Nancy and Steve) are flying off to the Midwest somewhere; they never tell me where they’re going, and yet again I’ve been unceremoniously bundled off to someone’s house without anyone asking what I wanted. This time I’m at my big brother Morgan’s place, though, so at least I can stay up late and watch whatever I want—it’s like visiting him at college.
Actually, now I recall overhearing Mom and Dad talking about heading to Oklahoma City for events at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum on Friday and the Howell Gallery on Saturday. I’m happy to remain in Montana though, I hate traveling. Airports are nothing but acres of hard surfaces without a single patch of grass for a diminutive dog to relieve himself, and airplanes are worse: I get stuffed under the seat for hours and subjected to all the strange and terrible odors humans exude at high altitudes. I can’t even stick my head out the window for a brief respite.
Frankly, I don’t even understand why Nancy has to travel so far from home when her all-in-one muse, model and companion is here patiently waiting for his handsome countenance to be painted into another masterpiece. How many dog paintings has she done? Not enough. And how many have sold? All of them.
In any case, the main event this weekend will be watching the University of Montana Grizzlies football team face off against the Montana State Bobcats tomorrow, and I am firmly in the Grizzly camp for the following reasons:
- I object to cats of all kinds, not least because most of them are bigger than I am. What’s bigger than a Bobcat, though? A grizzly!
- I have been told that my distinguished flanks resemble those of a bear. See for yourself.
- All my humans are Griz fans. It follows that if the Grizzlies carry the day, I’m more likely to receive treats from exultant humans.
- My middle name is Paddington, after the curious bear.
Morgan’s girlfriend Avis also seems determined to get some mileage out of my magnetism, dressing me up in Grizzly gear and parading me around in a satchel fit only for a human baby. I think they just want the attention, and it only costs me my dignity to humor them.
Until next time –Willy