Ok. I'm gonna' need some help figuring this out. Possibly more than usual.
With this dandy device here..... do you tippy toe on cat-like feet, sneaking up to the crapping canine .... smoothly slipping it beneath the dropping turds? Or do you medicate the dog with valium or some type of heavy alcoholic beverage so he just doesn't give a crap (pun intended) that you're behind his anus with a cup on a stick waiting for movement? (again, pun intended)
On this one, do we spray directly up the dog's ass, hindering risk of bowel movement... possibly forever? Or ...... do we spray (with teensy bar straw attachment) onto giant steaming pile of dung, until it becomes something, I assume, would be akin to fossilized dog shit?



But the kicker is....after such extreme poop intervention.... why would ANYONE want to buy an entire bag of........... fake dog poop??? Real product. I swear! Hell, I'll freeze up a bag of fossilized Lucy poo and sell it for half price on ebay!

If you thought I was finished....think again. This....oh this is a real beauty here. The doggie cell phone. That's right, now, no matter where your dog is, for the low, looooow price of seventy something bucks.... your dog can hear your voice up close and personal saying....... blah blah blah blah, fido. blah blah blah blah!
CRAZY PEOPLE !
Listen up. Dogs don't understand English. Trust me! The only words they know are....... biscut and weinie.

Labels: cell phone, crazy people, dogs, poop

I thought you guys might be interested to see every now and then, the cartoons I've done that didn't get published. (often you can see why. LOL!)
These were rejected by Dog Fancy. There are tons more from lots of other types of mags. For every cartoon you get published in the beginning you get 100 back. Anyone who's ever submitted cartoons, articles, or novels, knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Of everything I ever did to make a buck, cartooning and writing have been my greatest joy. I was off to a good start with the cartoons. And often wondered why I quit doing it after finally getting my name out there. ( I honestly couldn't remember) Today I saw the date on one of my returned cartoons and realized what happened. My Mother went into the hospital the day after Christmas, close to the time my cartoons were finally being published. She died two months later. Guess I just forgot about it after that.

Ah, life. She's a weird beastie.

Labels: cartoons, dogs

While taking Mikey's interview a question came up asking if I work and what I do. It made me think. Truth is I've had some memorable jobs.

So I've decided to run a series on jobs I've had. If you have a weak stomach, or are easily offended, you might want to skip these stories.

That said, sit down, kick your shoes off and let's start with.......

Dog Grooming.
Length of employment 1 days.
Difficulty level (on scale from 1-10) = 7
Payoff -$74.32

Never one to start a project without a proper education, I bought myself a book on poodle grooming. I already had a dog that sort of resembled a poodle so I didn't need to hire a model. I also bought a lovely set of doggie clippers.
Arrived home, unpacked new work tools, chased dog around sofa several times till panting wildly, I gave up and decided to lure her with a wienie. The real trick to dog grooming is...ya gotta be smarter than the dog.
The hum and buzz off the clippers immediately put the dog off. She wanted no part of it. She pulled. She pushed. She rolled herself into a ball like a potato bug. I persisted.

"oops. oops. Sorry. hold still. Be a good girl. DON'T MOVE, DAMN IT! Ah, hell." On and on it went for oh.....over two hours of shaving, scissoring, and wrestling. But I have to tell you at the end of that time I had an extremely original looking dog. She very much resembled a lion who'd been attacked by 4 grizzly bears. Her long tail was butt nekkid....her butt.....resembled the back end of a baboon. One ear was shorter than the other. And I'd forgotten to trim that 4th leg. Otherwise, it wasn't bad. So I called my first client. Miss Ellie.

I picked up Ellie's dog. Ellie was thrilled to have me doing her pup because I was charging less than the groomer and Sam the dog was crazy about me.

It was just after I'd began the bathing process when the phone rang and Ellie said, "Don't forget to express her anal glands."

"Huh?"

"Oh Sammy has to have her anal glands cleaned every 4 weeks or she has leakage."

"What kind of leakage?"

Ellie told me but I didn't believe her so I got my book and looked it up. Sure enough. There was an entire section on how to empty the anal glands. Basically what ya do is ... you squeeze the critter's anus like a zit until stinky juice spits out. Now, no dog worth their alpo and milkbones is gonna stand there while some jackass squeezes the hell out of their dung hole. It's NOT natural people! And no self-respecting human is gonna put their face next to a dogs pooper to make sure the stink juice comes out. I did the only thing I could do. I cleaned the dog up and lied my ass off. I know the dog appreciated it.

And that....was the beginning and end of a beautiful career in....dog grooming.

Labels: anus squeezing, bad jobs, dogs, unemployment

Dear Miss Ellie,

This time you've really gone and done it. What were you thinking not telling us about the infection you had? If you weren't dead, I'd smack the pee out of you for this! How could you up and die on me? Leaving me with all this whacko family crap to deal with? All I can say is.... you go right now and borrow a tablet and pencil from St. Peter and start writing down all the ways you're gonna make this up to me.

Gripe #1. The princess.
Your daughter came into my home and commanded me to keep my dog away from her (which meant me standing outside in the cold with my dog) All the while she kept yelling my name, sending me up and down the stairs to "get Bob, right now!" I put up with it too. Even though she was sitting at my computer, in MY office, using my crap! Ok, I admit, I did finally snap. But she had it coming. It's one thing to be ordered around in your own home. It's another to be talked down to like some kind of lacky. When she told me if I wanted her to write "this obituary" I would have to make myself available to her (while also watching my dog outside) I blew. I told her, "I don't give a shit if you write it or not. If you'll pick your snotty ass up out of my chair I'll write the damned thing." But COME ON! How much can a person take?

To my credit I did turn down the heavy shot of scotch offered to me by my neighbor. (and wasn't easy!)

Sadly, your daughter can also be amazingly sweet which totally screws with my head. Is she a good witch? Or a bad witch? I DON'T FRIGGIN KNOW! One thing is for certain, she has an amazing talent for making people cry. She had 3 people crying and running to me for help her first day here. GeezLOOeeze, Ellie. What the hell did you feed that girl? Human flesh?

Gripe #2
The dog. I had to fight like all the demon's from hell to keep that googley-eyed little dog in the family. (Jake says she has one eye huntin' and one eye fetchin') Arrangements had been made without my knowledge to have the dog removed from your home the day of your funeral. Think I didn't blow a gasket that day? I'm lucky I didn't end up in a home with people who tear their hair out and talk to imaginary friends, thanks to you. But damned if I didn't get George to take Molly. He loves her now even though he swore he didn't want two dogs. Sometimes people just don't know what's good for them. Fortunately, they have me to point the way.

Gripe #3
How come you had a flashy blue bra in with all those old lady unders and never told me? Were you living a double life? No matter. I gave it to George. He looks good in it.

Gripe #4
Why thee hell is my picture in your attic? I REALLY want to know the answer to this one, missy! #1's picture sits in a place of honor in the living room and I"m in the attic. WHAT THE HELL? Well, that's fine, cuz I'm making art out of your toilet seat. I'm displaying it in my front yard with your name and butt print on it. How ya' like that? HUH?

Gripe #5
How could you just leave like that without giving me a chance to say good-bye? Maybe...not saying yes, not saying no, but just maybe, I loved you. Ever think of that? Maybe I miss you. And maybe, possibly, you've left me with a big hole in my chest. When all the lights are out at night, maybe I remember and remembering hurts so bad I can hardly stand it. And it makes me angry at you for leaving like that when you didn't have to. Even more angry than I get with your snotty daughter when she talks to me like I'm the hired help.

Gripe #6
You didn't even leave directions to Heaven. Where is it? Up? Down? All around me? How do I find you again? When I need to talk to you, where do I go?

Not to make you jealous or anything but there were several deserts at your reception. and they were all delicious. PLEBBBT!

Labels: blue bras, death, desert, dogs, google eyes, heaven, hell, witches