Dogs greet space aliens and save the world
Editorial: Hey, what kind of newsletter is this, anyway?
With a flash of light, a small grey alien materialized in the family room. Young "Squirmin' Sherman" and Gunther (the fat old white-faced grandpa dog) raced to greet him with cookies, eggnog, and lots of wags and kisses.
What was supposed to have been just another routine abduction became a valuable lesson in the brotherhood of man-and man's best friend-for our intergallactic visitor. This strange bond between humans, canines, cats and even twinkling pine trees brought a tear to his bulging bug eyes as he realized we really can "all just get along." After a nickel-tour of the galaxy (the dogs love car rides), the alien left with a warm fuzzy feeling (golden retrievers shed).
Jessica and Gunther watch and Rick just says "cheese" as Chris singlehandedly supports a diesel locomotive on its way to the railroad Rick is building in the basement.
It's getting a little crowded down there, as you can imagine, but you really can't get the effect of a modern freight train unless you have at least three locomotives, twenty-some cars and a caboose. If you think your house gets rowdy when the Packers play, you should hear this place thunder when the guys come over to run trains!
Every able-bodied person in this house is expected to pull his/her own weight, and the animals are no exception.
One chore our tabby, Noodle, seems to enjoy is washing dishes. Having no opposable thumb, she uses her tongue instead of a dish cloth. Hmm... Maybe that's why nobody wants to have dinner with us anymore.
Good grief, not this stuff again! This Christmas newsletter looks more like a tabloid, for Pete's sake! And just read this stuff. Lies. All lies. Well, mostly lies.
Truth is, we just had another average year. Here's what happened:
Seriously, though, we wish you and your loved ones an enjoyable Christmas and a fun-filled 1997.
| Graffix | Illustration | Graffix Software |
Rick Johnson <rjohnson@execpc.com>