A Letter From Pete Nixon's Dog

Hey everybody, my name is Tedford. I am Pete's golden retriever. The Arden Park homeowners’ association wouldn’t allow Pete to get an actual golden bear, so he’s stuck with me.

What a fun keyboard! Pete left me in the house today. He was rushing out, mumbling something about needing to close a deal, little league practice and a raging hangover. I couldn’t hear it all. I was hiding in the laundry room hoping he wouldn’t notice me. I’ve gotten tired of chewing up most of the good stuff around here. I didn’t know this keyboard was for communicating. I found the “tab”, “Q” and “F12” keys in the stool sample I left on the area rug. So I won’t be using those keys. If only I had thumbs I could try to fish them out and snap them back on.

Which leads me to my plea; I don’t have thumbs, yet Pete constantly ties a piece of leather to my paw and hits balls at me. The kids will be all tired out but Pete keeps going. I don’t even know what he is talking about. He says “alright Tedford, let’s get two” then he only hits one ball and I need to chase it down, the big leather thing flopping as I run. I look all around for the second ball then finally drop a slobbery mound of leather at his feet and pray he doesn’t hit it again. Ever since his big black lab, Marshawn, ran away for green pastures, he’s been running me ragged.

Then once a year, he makes me sit and answer questions. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I usually try to lick my balls to give him the hint I’m not listening anymore, but he just keeps going. So then I lick his face. “Tedford, if you are on second base and no one is on first, do you have to run?” Listen, Pete last time I got to second base was with that labradoodle bitch next door and you yanked my choke chain so hard I nearly swallowed my tongue.

Anyway, could you fellas help a dog out? I know Pete needs to get his baseball fix in. And I know you are all about to start up the Bad Gnus season cuz Pete’s been wearing his tie-dyed shirt all around that Kathy keeps hiding in the garage. How about you guys get together Sunday, April 1 around 4:00 and hit some balls for Pete, drink some beers and just tire him out before he comes home and he tries to strap the catcher's equipment on me.

I gotta go. I see a drape in the other room that I forget to take a piss on. Thanks for your help!

A Letter from Bill Appleton's Goldfish

Hi Bad Gnus,

I'm Goldie, Bill Appleton's goldfish. I thought I'd send you all a letter as the long winter of the Bad Gnus offseason is upon us. First off, I don't want you to think that my human Bill lacked creativity and named me after my species. Bill is a very bright human who is well read. He named me after his favorite downtown bookstore. It is a special place for him is that is where he met his girlfriend. She never says very much but she always sits stiffly on the couch over there with her mouth open.

Overall, it is very cool being Bill's goldfish. He comes and goes a lot so he walks by and taps on the tank every time he heads out the door. Usually when he comes back he just falls asleep right on the floor in front of me instead of going to his bedroom. He doesn't take off his clothes or shoes or anything. I love it when we have sleepovers! Sometimes they're kind of smelly in the morning though.

I like it when he practices pickup lines on me. If I think they would work, I swim through my skull laying on the bottom of my tank and wiggle my tail. If not, I float to the top. It's really hot up there with the lamp, so I hope he gets some new lines soon. This weekend's assortment have been "You look great in shiny, orange shorts", "Would you like a job at an airport?" and "How's it goin'? Are you flowin'?". I don't know if he says the shiny orange shorts line to flatter me personally or not. I always give him a skull lap for that one.

One of the interesting things about living with Bill is all the friends that come over. Most recently, he has this girl there who is very sweet. I want her to practice lines on me, too. It is Bill's job to show her that all men aren't pigs. If anyone can show her how noble the male gender is, it is my man Bill. I like her a lot better then his last guest, Entourage. I didn't like how he treated Bill's stiff girlfriend when Bill was asleep.

The reason for this letter Gnus, is to ask for your help with my friend Bill during football season. He tends to get a little rowdy. With up to 4 days of football every week, we are having more and more sleepovers. I especially hate it when he watches the game here. I don't like to drink beer but he insists on letting me "celebrate" with him if no friends are here. And heaven forbid if his team is playing a "fish" team like the Dolphins. He goes temporarily insane. He keeps pointing his fingers at me and saying "Culpepper you suck!". I don't know how he can forget my name after all this time.

I am hoping that you can watch the games with him sometime so we can just have a nice quiet sleepover when he returns. How about Monday, October 2nd at Mandango's on Fulton. Packers vs. Eagles. Game time is 5:30.

Thanks in advance for your help!

Goldie