By Carolyn May

(Note: I wrote this as a letter from my dog, Izzy, to my daughter’s cat, Elmer.)

Dear Elmer,

We’ve never met. That’s a good thing because I would probably want to chase you and you’d have to give me a big old scratch and some hissing to make me stop.

But still…I want you to feel better about your urinary old-age complications.

So last night I did something you’d approve of.

My mom rarely even lets me get on her bed…and I never get to sleep there. But once in a while I will sneak up there when she’s downstairs brushing her teeth and the gate to the bedroom is open.

Last night was one of those lucky times.

Unfortunately, when I got up there on that bed and started walking around, it kinda felt like I was on the grass….you know….the way my feet sunk into that bed.

So I automatically did what I do on the grass.

I peed.

And it wasn’t just a little squirt. It was a real good puddle. Almost a small lake!! I was so proud of my pee-ability!!

Just then I heard mom coming.

I hopped off…and tiptoed to the corner where my REAL bed is…and I made myself look all innocent and cute.

Why in the world she started calling me a “bad dog” is beyond me. She only uses those two words if I see the butter left on the counter and I help myself—

Mom pulled off the comforter, and the sheets, and the pillowcases, and the memory foam…all soaked in the middle. She took the wet bedding to the basement, put the memory foam in the trash can, and then stood the mattress up beside the bed, ‘cause there was a pretty wet place on that as well.

We slept in the guest room last night, and this morning mom called to see if there’s a fee for the trash people to take away mattresses. There isn’t, and today is the right day for it to be picked up by the big truck.

Then she tried to get it downstairs.

Unfortunately, she lost her grip and it slid down, which looked ok until she tried to pull it around the corner of the stairs and she saw what it did to the wall. Now there was a hole in the wall. And the mattress was stuck.

She called Paul across the street and he came to her rescue.

The mattress is now out on the curb, waiting for pickup.
Mom and me will either sleep in the guest room now or she’ll get a new mattress soon.

And I’m still in the doghouse!!

Love,
Izzy

P.S. Mom says the only good thing is that her old mattress was sunk in the middle and she really needed a better one. But she hadn’t planned on one today!!

I was eager to publish “Izzy and the Bed” because hearing Carolyn’s story gave me new insight into my own dog’s similar behavioral problems. Izzy’s letter allowed me to forgive certain acts that I can now see more from a dog’s perspective, less from an affronted human’s.

Even the lightest of light humor essays can have a profound effect on readers.

-Sarah White