Notes From the Dogwalker pt. 2

Mazall and the Mollies (this could be a band name)

So you may be wondering where our “Notes from the Dogwalker” series went. Or you may not. Let’s be honest, the series was ill-conceived and poorly executed. This is a free blog, what do you expect? Jeez.

Well, the reason the series has been discontinued is that I fired my dogwalker a few weeks ago. It appears that he wasn’t actually walking my dog, he was just pretending to walk my dog and then taking my hard-earned money. (Those Keanu articles aren’t going to write themselves!)  Instead, I’ve been coming home early to walk Aggy*.  On Tuesdays when I work late to close the magazine fly the Death Star, Molly acts as defacto dogwalker. (Mazall will do it too, but begrudgingly; she only likes adorable, needy things if they’re human.)

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M’Tuna

(not actual cat food)

Nick said I could blog about him. I haven’t blogged about him yet because he moved to Saint Louis and nothing interesting happens there, not even by this blog’s pathetic standards (see: cat on leash). Also, I’m still mad at him for choosing a future and a career over the possibility that I might want to hang out on the weekends. But, guess what? After four months in Saint Louis, Nick finally did something interesting.

(I know what you’re thinking, and no, it does not involve urination)

Before I rail on Nick, I should probably mention that he doesn’t actually suck. In fact, he is sometimes quite tolerable. He owns a scooter. He can speak fluent French. He plays in a ridiculous 80s cover band. He helps me insert failed Supreme Court nominee Robert Bork’s last name into pop songs (… is this not normal?) And once he told me a Helen Keller joke that made me laugh so hard at work I had to go into the bathroom and compose myself because I couldn’t stop laugh-crying. Yesterday, if you had asked me what I thought of Nick, I would have said only positive, glowing things. But that has all changed now that I learned that he mixes canned tuna into mac and cheese.