It was very sad. He went off into the woods one night and never returned. Despite what you may have heard, he was not into drugs or young girls' white panties. He liked his chow, true enough. And in his later years, you could see it. He liked elaborate costumes—bejeweled capes and so on. He didn't really like to be alone. Except at the very end. When he left us to howl alone.
Why I can't stop smoking: The King is dead. Maybe.
Anyone who wishes to buy Elvie a virtual plot or memorial, check out DEPARTED PETS
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This blog used to be called "Why I Can't Stop Smoking." Well, I did stop smoking. Now I need to stop drinking. The only thing is, every day there seems to be a reason why I can't just yet. It worked before, so—here goes! Today's reason
mr. and mrs. jones
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About Me
- Claudia
- The sister of the President of the Garden Club, a former journalist (People, Life) and now vacation rental property manager on an island once known as Claudia's Island, Claudia has honed her bedmaking skills and seldom travels without a truckload of substandard chairs.
6 comments:
How can I resist this?
How about an epitaph for the virtual tombstone:
HE WAS NOTHING BUT A
HOUNDDOG.
Awh. I didn't know about Elvie. Or the house. Apparently I don't know ANYTHING about ANYTHING. I guess I am getting JEALOUS of the people to whom you actually speak.
Dear Citichild: Never fear. Dolores and I are doing to stage a fight on Dolores' balcony because we are so jealous of each other's friendship with your mother. And your mother is going to videotape it for the blog. But Dolores and I might get so carried away, we throw each other off. Maybe Claudia, too. Has the Donald Trump of Block Island written a will? Why not ask her. Faced with her own impending possible fatal fall, she may be more willing to share with you.
I think I get a green chip now.
Ms. Cat-Fight,
Please be careful what you say about cats. They are v cute. And talking about them in such regard might hurt a certain someone's feelings...maybe not though, she was raised by wolves.
And if ya'll fall off the balcony it will be okay, because C is building wheelchair acessable width doorways in the new building. So all of you, after your non-fatal, but horribly crippling falls, can move right in and zip around the house in your chairs. And who will have to care for ya'll?? ME! And then no one will be jealous of me at all!! Because i will just spend my days lifting you on and off the high toilets and making sure the salt air doesn't rust your chairs. SO puh-lease do me the favor. Eith scratch the fight...or everyone dies. I really can't deal with being kicked out of jeal-anon for your mistakes.
Jeezus keeriste. Did I have some fucking hilarious daughter or WHAT?
You do. Summa Cum Laugh In. May I remind her that one of her childhod games was "Wolfin". In which she, as "wolfin", would crawl on her fallen mother, rather like a wolf on its fallen prey.
While other little girls were having tea-parties and collecting dolls, my three best girlfriends and I were out in the woods, building dens and pretending we were wolves. We called ourselves "The Wolf Pack". We travelled for years.
There is a very famous book called "Women Who Run With the Wolves", about gals like us...you, me, Han, Kathy, Lee and Annie.
My daughter's not so far off.
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