"intrepid rhythm arrangements, clever lyrics,... booty shaking" -TimeOut New York
THE PUP RESPONDS TO SOME OF YOUR MORE PRESSING QUERIES
Q. Dear Pup,
Every time that itís time for dinner, I rush into the dining room with everybody else and begin pigging out. With the boys and the girl at my side, I stuff myself as quickly as possible with chicken, beans, rolls, delicious butter, and sometimes salad to make the hunger in my belly go away. I try to put everything I see inside me. Then I am always slapped in the face and thrown out on the porch and have to sleep outside on the wooden porch with the nail-heads sticking up it seems like an inch into my ribs. Sometimes I go sleep on the grass, but there are bugs. I have never seen the boys or the girl on the porch, even though they eat the food off the table.
Ė Confused (Colly) in Cleveland
A. Dear Confused:
No matter how frequently I hear these stories of blatant prejudice, I canít get used to them. Let me just say first, Confused, that you are almost certainly not imagining the bigoted treatment you describe Ė itís common, itís accepted, and itís not going away. And youíre right to be uncomfortable. Even though you can run twice as fast, jump twice as high, and are twice as good at surprising cats as the other members of your family, you are given worse access to food and worse spots to sleep. Unfortunately, sympathy is about all I can offer you; changing these attitudes will take generations. If you wish to sleep inside and avoid the hurtful slappings, wait for your share of the food to be given to you after the family has finished eating.
I have a curious habit: I crap on the floor in various hidden spots around the house. Under tables, in closets, in sleeping bags, in drawers, atop cabinets and on the roof are some of the places I have let the crap fall. Iíve been known to crap in the yard, too, donít get me wrong; but for the most part I crap in or on the house. Why do I do it? Iíve asked myself that many times. The answer, I think, is that it calms me. My family is very wealthy and employs a house-keeper who cleans up after me; consequently, they have yet to object to my particular disposition. And yet I feel that what I do is somehowÖdirty.
Ė Ashamed in L.A.
A. Dear Ashamed,
If it makes you happy and your family doesnít seem to mind, I say continue apace. Perhaps your guilt comes from concerns for the house-keeper, in which case try limiting the range of your pooping with an eye toward her convenience: poop only in her bedroom and bathroom area. This way she can slip out of bed in the morning, attend to your tailings, and return to sleep in the time it might previously have taken her to get the ladder out of the garage.
Q. Mr. Pup,
I am crazy for humping, simply crazy for it. ďEnoughĒ isnít a word that can be applied to how much humping I can get in a day of putting all my energies into it. I hump: car tires, peopleís legs, the driveway, bushes and trees, carrots, my food bowl, babies, planet earth. At my age (1), this is considered natural and acceptable and, har har, it will all pass and sheíll settle down someday and raise a family. Thatís right: she. You see, the problem is that while itís taken as a given that males my age will be hump-crazy, females are supposed to be reserved, polite. But I donít feel reserved, Pup!! I donít feel polite!! I must hump everything! So people call me a slut. What can I do?
Ė Bemused Birmingham Bitch
A. Dear B.,
Ahem. I think it best that we meet in person so that I can gain a better understanding of your problem Ė experience it first hand, if you will. Iíll take the liberty of stopping by the address noted on your envelope at my earliest convenience, and we shall try to find some way of sating this erosive desire of yours.
Long have I dreamt of this day.
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