Relax; I’m fit to live

Dublin Gunther Gill

Credit: DKS Editors

Credit: DKS Editors

Disclaimer: The following is completely serious. My dog wrote it in response to my last column, “If my dog is fit to live, he will.” I’m donating the next 600 words at his request.

Attention fellow citizens: It has come to my attention that I am the subject of a major controversy at this university and across the nation. Fear not! I have decided to come forth, break my silence and address you all on the subject via my owner’s column. Forgive any grammatical errors, as my paws were not made for typing.

First of all, I wish Kristine had never written about my problem. As you know, my anal glands were full and needed “expressing.” It was a very embarrassing subject for me. How often is the state of your rear published for the world to read? Kristine insisted we go to the veterinarian, and while I was hesitant to allow anyone near my behind, I agreed to go. I went to the vet Saturday, Feb. 14, the day after the column was published. Kristine made the appointment before any of you even commented. You can see the PDF of my vet bill online if you don’t believe me.

As it turns out, beagles and pugs are notorious for weight gain and anal gland issues. Hence the reason for the soft-serve ice cream-like substance the vet squeezed out of me. On the issue of weight gain, I am proud to announce I have lost the five pounds of winter weight the vet suggested I shed. It’s all thanks to the switch to a new food and calorie counting on Kristine’s part. (I’m no good with math.)

I’d like to address some other issues brought up by you astute readers and take the time to thank you for your genuine concern.

To those of you who call me a designer dog: Cease and desist. I have told you before that my mother was a beagle, and my father was a pug. I am merely a mutt with no legacy or bloodline to speak of. It is a sore subject for me, and I wish that you would avoid it.

To those of you who say my owner buys me too many clothes: You’re wrong. I own three sweaters, one of which was handcrafted by Kristine’s mother, a T-shirt and a Halloween costume. Such a limited wardrobe does not bode well in my quest for a significant other, as I am forced to wear one of four shirts out on the town. Donations for two pairs of winter boots would be appreciated. My “designer” paws weren’t made for such cold weather.

To those who say I am physically abused: Fear not. The kicking and spanking you read about in the last column don’t happen. Kristine was trying to be funny, and not everyone appreciated the attempt. When I rip up Kristine’s sweatpants and sneak people food off the table, I go into timeout for a few minutes. Timeouts are so boring. I’ll tell her not to joke about anything ever again. Besides, Kristine is covered in scars from my playful biting as a puppy. Many of you would say she deserves this and more.

To those concerned about my use of cologne: What gives? Would you want to walk around smelling like a dog? I get baths when I smell, and I get cologne to keep it that way. Ever been to the groomer? They spray us dogs with cologne, paint our nails and send us home with bandanas and bows in our hair. Ain’t no big thing.

As for the people who wanted to rescue me: Your concern has touched me. It means a lot, but this Kristine chick is really OK and takes pretty darn good care of me. She just didn’t understand how passionate my fellow citizens out there are about taking care of guys like me.

Dublin Gunther Gill is a guest columnist for the Daily Kent Stater. Contact him via Kristine Gill’s e-mail at [email protected].