Peta, Peta, Peta

(This is the last of the reprinted posts that I’ll be running, here at the Dog Blog. Starting next week, I’ll return to writing new posts. But for now, please enjoy one of my favorites, from Dec. 28, 2009)

Rosie: Can I read you something?

Mitch: Shoot.

Rosie: I’m writing a letter to PETA, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. I want to get your thoughts.

Mitch: Go ahead.

Rosie: (ahem) “Dear Peta. How are you? I am fine.”

Mitch: Stop.

Rosie: What?

Mitch: That’s not how you start a business letter.

Rosie: It’s not a business letter, it’s a friendly correspondence.

Mitch: I hear you, but that’s how you start a letter to a friend you met at summer camp. It’s not appropriate when you’re writing to a professional organization. We can fix that. Keep going.

Rosie: (ahem)” Thank you for helping to raise awareness about animal abuse.  I’ll bet you get contributions quicker than you can skin a cat.”

Mitch: Stop.

Rosie: What?

Mitch: ‘Quicker than you can skin a cat?’ You’re writing to an organization that prevents cruelty to animals.

Rosie: It’s a cat! And anyway, you wouldn’t skin it until it was dead.

Mitch: I’m not gonna win this one.  Okay, go on.

Rosie: (ahem) “Since you are interested in hearing about animal cruelty, I want to point out a particular case of cruelty happening  right in my own home.”

Mitch: Stop.

Rosie: What?

Mitch: What are you talking about?

Rosie: I haven’t been out to play at the Dogstar Ranch in two days.

Mitch: Have you looked outside?

Rosie: There’s a little snow. It doesn’t stop you from going out for beer.

Mitch: Point taken. But we’re not going to Dogstar.

Rosie: May I continue?

Mitch: Read on, not that it matters.

Rosie: So I’ll skip the cruelty part…(ahem) “I love the good work you do, and Mitch sure loves your, ‘I’d rather go naked than wear fur’ campaign.”

Mitch: Stop.

Rosie: Now what? You know you like those ads.

Mitch: They’re compelling ads. But remember, I used to work in advertising.

Rosie: So when you’re drooling over those ads, it’s not creepy, it’s…?

Mitch: Professional curiosity. I’m studying the copy, the layout–

Rosie: Stop.

Mitch: What?

Rosie: The B.S. is getting a little deep in here, that’s all.

Mitch: Read your letter.

Rosie: So in the future, if you need a dog to stand as a  model for all abused and neglected animals everywhere–

Mitch: Stop.

Rosie: What?

Mitch:  You can’t present yourself as an abused and neglected animal if you aren’t one. It’s false advertising.

Rosie:  Do you think those people in the ‘Ab Rocker’ ads, got those abs by using the Ab Rocker?

Mitch: That’s creative license.

Rosie: So is this.

Mitch: Fine. Are you done?

Rosie: (tosses the letter aside) Yeah. Sure. Done.

Mitch: Put it by the door and I’ll mail it when I go out for beer.

Rosie: (muttering) I’ll tell you where I ‘d like to put it.

Mitch: Stop.  ##

Stoned

(This is part III of “Who Can Turn the World on…?” Parts I and II appear directly below this post. To recap, Rosie has moved out of Mitch’s house, and into her own apartment–an apartment she shares with a poodle named Audrey. There are cats living upstairs. Just go with it.)

(Rosie and Audrey are smoking a joint in their apartment. Audrey is curled up on a bean bag chair, Rosie is sprawled on the couch. Rosie’s iPod is blasting “I Had Too Much To Dream (Last Night)” by the Electric Prunes. A thin stratum of blue smoke hangs two feet off the floor.)

Audrey: I have so got the munchies.

Rosie: There’s a bag of kibbles in the pantry.

Audrey: Get it!

Rosie: I’m all over it (takes a hit on the joint, but doesn’t move. Both lapse back into silence).

Audrey: This is a great song.

Rosie: Gotta hand it to humans. They make some kick-ass music.

Audrey: And what have we got? Howling.

Rosie: It’s like we’re not even trying.

(the doorbell rings. After a long pause, Rosie answers the door. A cat is standing there.)

Cat: Hey, I live upstairs. Can we borrow a cup of milk?

Rosie: You borrowed a cup of milk 10 minutes ago.

Cat: Right.

Rosie: And you borrowed another, 10 minutes before that.

Cat: And we really appreciate it, but–

Rosie: Beat it! (starts to close the door)

Cat: (puts his paw in the door) Wait! Ah…are you guys blowin’ a stick in there?

Rosie: Are you a narc?  ‘Cause if I ask, you have to tell me. It’s the law.

Cat: I’m not a narc!

Rosie: Okay, come in.

Cat: (enters, looks around furtively) You know, we can smell this upstairs.

Audrey: So what does that make you, drug-sniffing cats?

(Audrey and Rosie start to giggle and can’t stop)

Cat: Okay…

(Audrey and Rosie shake with silent laughter)

Cat: Okay, okay…pull it together.

(they stop, only to start giggling again when they make eye contact with each other)

Cat: Yeah, this is real funny.

Audrey: (wiping her eyes) Oh, like you guys don’t do a doobie now and then.

Cat: Give me that (he hits the joint, French inhales it, then lets it go in a slow, sinuous stream). Jeez, that’ll tighten your wig.

Rosie: Amen to that. So what are you doing down here?

Cat: I told you, we smelled the smoke. (he lays back on the carpet, staring at the ceiling) Man, I could sure go for a mouse, right now.

Audrey: What’s a ‘mouse?’ Oh, you mean an actual  mouse.

Cat: I wouldn’t even play with it. Just…down the hatch.

Rosie: We got kibbles.

Cat: I’ll take ’em.

(nobody moves)

(the joint goes around again)

Cat: This is a great song.

Rosie: Gotta hand it to humans…

Cat: And what have we got? Caterwauling.

(music) I’m not ready to face the light…

Rosie: We should order a pizza.

Cat: A mouse pizza.

(nobody moves)

(music) I had too much to dream last night. I had too much to dream…last night.

(to be continued)