a conversation with winnie the dog


Since my last post was construed by some as anti-canine, I’ll publish this gem from four years ago, pre-marriage, pre-blog, pre-children, etc.  I had a habit of spending a few hours after work on Friday night drinking alone on my deck and talking to my dog, Winnie, while waiting on the neighbors to get ready to go out.  Sometimes, I’d bring out a laptop with me and type these conversations.  Here’s one I found in an old email inbox:

He sits alone on a Friday night on his deck at a circular metal table purchased the preceding summer at a Dutch woman’s moving sale.  He is flanked by 2 citronella candles and five empty beer bottles.  In front of him rests a sweating 3/4 full bottle of Heineken and a plastic plate holding Digiorno pizza.  He reads about  Bono.  Eighties music plays through Bose outdoor speakers, courtesy of XM radio.  A small black dog is at his feet:  Winnie.

M:  I wonder if I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing with my life?  You know?  It must be easy for you—you just exist and don’t worry about your purpose.   But what about me?
Winnie:  Maybe you should think about someone or something besides yourself.  Then you wouldn’t have to subject me to these miserable pity parties.
M:  Hmmm.  Sometimes I’m jealous of you, Winnie.  It must be great being a cute little dog.
Winnie:  It’d be a lot greater if my daddy would get a fucking life.
M:  I’m so glad I finally decided to take you home with me.  I’ll bet you were worried at the shelter that I’d just keep coming to visit but never actually adopt you, huh?!
Winnie:  Not really.  I was glad to be away from the trailer trash who beat me.  I liked the redhead who talked you into finally bringing me home, though.
M:  Now that you’re mine, I can’t imagine life without my little Winnie dog.  I mean, what would I be doing right now if I didn’t have you to come home to?
Winnie:  Therapy, I would hope.
M:  You look like you have so much to say but just can’t.  Sometimes I wish you could talk—just to know what you’re thinking!
Winnie:  It’s to your benefit that I can’t, believe me.

Apparently, I wasn’t the happiest of campers back in those days.  Anyone else have conversations with their pets?  With alcohol?  Ever write them down?  Let me know how normal this behavior is!

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  1. Still haven’t gone to therapy, huh?

    SciFi Dad’s last blog post..Pick The Lies – Volume Two – Results (and Delurking Day)

  2. err, bout as normal as posting your ass on the blogosphere? and running around with your pants down in toilets?

    SSG’s last blog post..ignorfamous

  3. Talk to my dog? No.

    My Kiss dolls? Yes.

    prefers her fantasy life’s last blog post..Tuesdays With My Card-Carrying Gay Buddhist Buddy (Part Two)

  4. SciFiDad, Not yet.

    SSG, Are you trying to diss me? ‘Cause you diss ‘krat, you diss yourself, bi-atch.

    PrefersFantasyLife, I’d like to talk to your KISS dolls, too. I’ll bet they offer profound advice.

    Gin, Well, it sure as hell isn’t “Pooh.”

  5. I don’t even have to ask if her last name is Cooper.

  6. That’s great. I added you to my blogroll too. Keep writing, and ROLL MF TIDE!

    Sharon Nichols’s last blog post..My Orientation

  7. Anyone else have conversations with their pets?

    Don’t get me started Muskrat…

    and about your alleged anti-canine stance, Nooter asks that you say three hail-marys, two good-boys and five lets-go-to-the-parks then all will be forgiven.

    the human’s last blog post..Lordy That’s Hot

  8. Not only do I have conversations with MY Winnie, but I also spell things out when I don’t want her to hear certain words: t-r-e-a-t, w-a-l-k, c-o-o-k-i-e, c-a-r, etc.
    The funny thing is that she is starting to understand the spellings. However, the other day, while out with my hubby, I spelled the word c-a-r- and he just stared at me blankly.

    Sherri’s last blog post..Although I Am Black And Proud, Problems Got Me Pessimistic.

  9. Add alcohol, and just about anything will talk….

    Don’t believe me?

    Try it again sometime!

    At least you’ll have something interesting to blog about!

    Jormengund’s last blog post..Fessing up..

  10. Sharon, Thanks for visiting and for the battle cry. You too, sister. Hope finals went well.

    thehuman, I have to say–this is the first comment to which I have responded when the typist was a dog. I apologize.

    Sherri, I was about to be impressed by your pooch, until you revealed that it can’t spell “car.” Your dog’s a retard.

    Jormengund, You always have the most brilliant suggestions. You must be a former Marine.

  11. did winnie talk back?

    Unfortunate Names’s last blog post..One Stop Shopping

  12. no dissing, tis all bout the banter! bii-atch.

    SSG’s last blog post..Wednesday Wallpaper

  13. “Anyone else have conversations with their pets? With alcohol?”

    Hah, and you fret about Rickey’s unchecked rage?

    Rickey Henderson’s last blog post..Rickey’s Guide to the Presidential Inauguration

  14. of course I talk to my pets! what are they good for if not to keep you company on lonely nights…

    don’t usually do it drunk though.

    and never written them down..

    maybe i should? hm..

    ChurchPunkMom’s last blog post..The Boy Scout – Epilogue Part 2

  15. I talk to mine all the time! Wait, is swearing at them talking to them??

    My dog Mocha sits at my feet all of the time. She follows me where ever I go so it would be hard not to have full blown convos with her. She never talks back though. ;o)

    Bee’s last blog post..Well, I guess that’s the end of the line for this blogger.

  16. Unfortunate Names, Of course she talks back! Do you think I’d make this stuff up?

    SSG, Okay, as long as there’s no dissing.

    Rickey, Your crimes are much more dangerous to society than are mine.

    ChurchPunkMom, Absolutely, you should write them down. Now.

    Bee, That’s because Mocha is retarded.

  17. I haven’t had talks with my cat with alcohol, but hmmm, it’s an idea. I didn’t say it was a good idea, but it is an idea. 😉

    Unfinished Rambler’s last blog post..The karma train is never late

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