Love, Velma

pigeon foot

I am sad. I am sad and angry because I have to share my yard with chickens.

I know that if I kill chickens, I will suffer irreparable shame (despite the fact that I am a bird dog and this kind of behavior should be expected).

So instead, I will kill pigeons. And bring them inside.

I will not do you the favor of delivering the corpses intact. No. I will scatter them bit by grizzly bit all over the house, hoping for surprise encounters like the one this morning, when you were wandering around sans glasses and picked up this foot-leg with your bare, trusting hands because you thought it was a twig (the hissing and flapping up and down like you were on fire was magnificent).  I stuck a chicken feather to the foot so that you might imagine, if only for one cold, desperate moment, that it belonged to a chicken. I feel no remorse for this but believe things are just as they should be.

P.S. Remember, I know how to get into your made-up bed when you’re not home. And I’ve seen The Godfather.

16 thoughts on “Love, Velma

  1. Sounds like Velma has your number!
    You’re going to have to come big with the tummy rubs…

    (Nice job Velma. Pity you didn’t have a camera this morning.)

    • Yes, never underestimate the power of a smart dog with a grudge. And don’t say the camera thing too loudly… she already knows how to open doors and drive.

    • Thanks Tina. My first thought upon encountering the dead foot (in my hand) was, “VOODOOO!” But then I couldn’t think of anyone with the desire or ability to curse me, so I moved on. Looked to the floor. And then it became clear….

    • Oh, no, the ticking time bomb was surgically and expensively removed from Velma’s intestines around this time last year, remember? (And this is the thanks I get….) What we have here is a neurotic, passive-aggressive child. With fur. Thanks for the warning!

  2. You have just turned a horrible terrible no-good day into laughter with that last line. May you have all the love that those chickens, Velma, and everyone who reads this or knows you should be feeling right now!

    • Thank you Maggi! I wish my horrible-no good days didn’t get worse than this, but unfortunately, a dead pigeon foot-leg in my bedroom is pretty mild. Thanks for stopping by, great to see you here again!

  3. Velma, I think you’re awesome and I’m sorry your mom taunts you with those fowl (play on words intended) creatures. It’s like me and Cool Ranch Doritos. Almost impossible to resist, but somehow, I don’t think substituting bar-b-q chips would work for me. Keep the faith, sister.

    • Wrigley, is that you? I know you are are relative newcomer to your pack, but take my advice: indulge now in whatever you want to do, while it will still be considered “endearing” (kudos for learning how to open the Cool Ranch bags, BTW). Because later, when you are slow, farty, and no longer a contributing pack member (protection on walks & in the house, cleaning up cooking scraps, draining the toilet bowl, etc), your people will have NO PATIENCE for these behaviors. And above all, NEVER let them see you walking upright (let alone twerking)!!!. Keep the peace, bro.

  4. I am sad. I am sad and angry because I have to share my yard with dogs.
    I know that if I kill dogs I will suffer irreparable shame. ( despite the fact that I am human and this kind of behavior can be expected, especially if one such dog were to play the Godfather card by climbing into my made up bed.

    Laura I admire you greatly because you haven’t yet punished that dog other than slandering his “good name.” Good luck.

    • Thanks for the new ideas, Michael! I need to get in touch with my vindictive side. And then reject violent ideas so I feel superior. Or at least better than the dog. 😉

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