It’s official; B-Dawg is DEAD.
To be completely honest, “it” isn’t DEAD dead, but currently at a retreat in Miami for some well-deserved R&R [at least, that’s what I told the 8,398 people who mailed me for life advice between May 30th and today].
Moving on, [talking about my alter ego is utterly tiring. Even the though of sitting through piles and piles of messages and then actually REPLYING to all of them is enough to make me barf -which is weird, since writing is my “thing,” you know??] guess what I tried my hand at yesterday?? Peeing on Dad’s brand-new lawn mower!! [Ever since I stopped answering fan-mail, I seem to have TONS of time on my paws]
The only reason this gives me even a smudge of satisfaction is because Daddy called me a “bad girl” yesterday and you KNOW how cross that makes me. Calling a dog a “bad girl” is like calling an African a “black.” It’s just NOT done.
And, OK, maybe I WAS curled up on the living room couch when he walked in, thus leading to him call me what he did, but are you SERIOUS?? Just because I HAPPENED to spot a serial killer on the sofa [aka the cushion] and was TRYING to assassinate him before he killed my family doesn’t mean anyone, ANYONE, has the right to call me BAD. I JUST WON’T STAND IT!!
That’s why, after checking that the coast was clear, I trotted off to the garage, slipped in through the shutters and did my “business” all over Dad’s new, most-prized possession.
I kind of regret it now, because I’m sure that he’ll figure out it was me, anyway, [I think he knows that Mom and my siblings have more important things to do than to go on an elaborate revenge mission and pee on his new piece of “man-meta”l] and that will lead to another insulting round of him calling me all sorts of names in front of my kin.
I would rather like it if I could hand over the responsibility to one of my fans and turn him/her into the next B-Dawg. That way, I will be able to do more worthwhile things with my time than answer letters from desperate teens and I will have someone to ask questions to. I will have someone always there to guide me and listen to and…
Hey, wait a minute!! That isn’t such a bad idea, now is it?? Handing over my B-Dawg responsibilities will be a BIG step, but will also be for the ultimate good of the society. After all, a person/dog with my intellect should be spending more time on constructing rockets.
Let me think about it, though. Usually, sleeping on a problem helps me get a clearer picture of things.
What do YOU think?? Should I continue as the nation’s most sought-after advice giver or hand over the baton??