An Announcement From The Dog

Hi guys, my dad keeps asking me to let the dog do a post. Grover’s been kind of sulky lately, but he agreed to get off the couch and write. Take it away, Grover.

Hi gang, it’s me your loveable pal Grover. Sorry I haven’t written lately. I’ve been a little depressed ever since we moved to the mountains. The Man told me I’d get to hunt and eat an elk when we moved out here. But it’s been almost year and no elk. I’m fatter than ever. And my fur is falling out. All because I haven’t been able to hunt and kill an elk. It’s really affecting me. This elk thing. Seriously, if I wasn’t going to kill an elk, what was the point of being out here?

So I convinced The Man and The Woman to move back to Evanston.

It was hard. Because I can’t speak English. I had to do it with my eyes. I sat there at The Man’s feet and stared at The Man and told him with my mind, “This Denver thing isn’t working out. You miss Evanston. I miss Evanston. You’re a Midwesterner, man. Your sons want to go back. The Woman lost her mom and she should be with her family. You’ve got that house sitting there waiting for you. And there hasn’t been a single elk that’s come through the yard for me to hunt and kill. Your brother, The Other Man Who Smells Like The Man, is there. Your friends who smell like beer and basements are there. You gave it a shot and it was fun. But it’s time to move back. Time to be where you belong. You can get a job in Chicago doing whatever it is you do. Based on your breath, I assume it has something to do with liquor. I miss the toxic waste smell of Lake Michigan. I miss the stench of pretension on your neighbors. I miss the lax leash laws.”

And then The Man stared back at me with comprehension and said to The Woman, “Do we need to feed the dog?”

Then The Woman said, “Let’s go back to Illinois.”

The Man said, “Fine by me.”

So we’re heading back home. In a couple weeks. Stay tuned.