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11:37 a.m. | 25 November 2002 | the dog has her day

-----Original Message-----
From: Guinness
Sent: Monday, November 25, 2002 10:31 AM
To: Claudia
Subject: i can't stop eating your stuff

Hi, Mommy,

Though i know i break your heart with each and every chomp, i can't seem to stop destroying your things. I know it's wrong, and bad, but when i see a black silk scarf you inherited from your deceased Greek great-aunt, it just looks so...divine, that i can't stand it. I must shred. I cannot coexist in a world of such beauty, so destroy i must. Am i a bad dog, or am i struggling through an existential dilemma?

Your right boot tasted great. I would like you to note that when the need to masticate became too much, i did at least choose the cheap Target boots, and not the other six pair that were considerably more expensive--i know that if i'd eaten the brand-new camel-coloured ones, you would have skinned me and made me into a furry, black-and-tan cardigan. As it was, when you came home and said, "[gasp] What have you done?" in that most terrible voice, i cowered, and then i felt so bad that i peed on the floor. Which didn't help.

Barnett Newman once said "The impulse of modern art is to destroy beauty." Perhaps, then, despite your brush-wielding opposable thumbs and constant artmaking, i am the real modern artist. Perhaps i am commenting on the cult of commodity and fashion when i artfully arrange the black shreds of your possessions over your white, white bed, and then lay among them. Who can tell?

Now i'm kept in the bathroom during the day, and to make things worse, since my stage name is Houndini and i can get out of doors, you had to install a latch-hook on the outside to keep me in. I will lay on the somewhat grimy bath mat i so love and look mournfully at the door. I have my food, and water, and all those expensive chew toys you and The Other Mommy bought for me, and i can lay on the heat vent or next to the window to regulate my temperature, but, alas, it is not like those days of wine and roses--or, rather, those days of Socks and Panties.

I know the first step is admitting i have a problem. I HAVE A PROBLEM. I just don't know where to go from here. Perhaps i will get a crate.

love,

Guinness Sherman

Coordinator of Mayhem, D.A.D.A.
Dog Advocates of Destructive Action


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