We Interrupt this History

My goal in these writings is to share with you how the Lord taught be that Jesus loves goobers through my interaction with basset hounds. But, as often happens, the past is interrupted by the present. So, here is a note from Harry.

Dear People who Give Treats,

I greet you from my throne where I rule the Seay Household. Dad thought that when they bought a two seat recliner that there was one seat for him and one for Mom. I have no idea what gave him that idea. Obviously, I have to have a seat of my own when Mom is knitting, so he either has to give me a treat to sit on the other couch or sit there himself. Win / win for me.

Now that I am three years old, that is 21 in dog years, I have decided it is time to get my people better trained to respond to my every whim. The secret to success is being so darned cute that they cannot resist my charm. It helps that I can look into your eyes and suck your soul right out. Also, I do not know what it is, but Mom cannot get over my feet. If I sit and hold paws with her for a while, it is always worth a treat.

But lately I have had to step my game up a bit. Mom and Dad have been sitting around watching TV when obviously they should be taking me out to check the news of the day. A daily sniff along is essential to staying up on my emails and Instagram. Would you want to wait two or three days to check your email? Of course not.

So, I have deployed the “bother you until you play with me” strategy. It is amazing. All you have to do is drag out all of your toys and scatter them around the house. Then you check out Mom’s trash can in the office to see if she needs help shredding anything. After that, whining and bumping into them helps. If all else fails, jumping on and off of Mom, ensuring all 75 pounds lands on her tummy, generally gets the job done. Then she finally gets up and takes me out. Or, worse case scenario, Dad puts me out on the deck with a treat. I can live with that.

I do not know why my mom loves big ears, huge feet, and my incredibly boopable nose, but I know she does. It is probably the same way Jesus loves all of your idiosyncrasies. He loves you just because you are you.

And, I love you, too. Come see me sometime. If I sit nicely while you pet me Mom will give me a treat.

Love,

Harry

P.S. Thank you, Mom, for typing this. My toes are not conducive to working a keyboard.