Iggy copes with loss.

“Hey, what did I win?”

What?

“The photo contest.  What did I win?”

Oh, that.  Sorry, Iggy, you didn’t make the finals.

“What?!  I didn’t?”

I’m afraid not.

“But… but… *sniffle* you mean nobody thought I was cute?”

What the — are you crying, Iggy?

“They thought I was ugly!  They thought, ‘Ha, look at that stupid Schnauzer, thinking he can win a cute dog contest.  He’s all wormy and stupid and hideous!’  *sniffle* I bet they laughed at my picture!”

Aw, Iggy, no!  You got hundreds of votes!

“I bet they just felt sorry for me!”

Aw, hang on, let me open the crate.  Come here, I’ll scratch your ears.  

“No.  Don’t want anyone scratching my ugly ears!”

Don’t be like that.  Do you want a rib bone?

“No.”

What about a chewy hedgehog?  You love those.

“No!”

Is there anything you do want?  Your Kermit?  Your squeaky chicken?

*sniffle* I dunno.”

Come on, Iggy, name it.

“Really?”

If I can get it for you, I will.  I hate seeing you so sad.  A marrow bone?  How about some jerky?

*sniffle* Okay.”

Okay, what do you want?

“HA!  I WANT A POODLE!  YEAH!  YOU SAID ‘NAME IT’!  I WANT A POODLE!”

You manipulative little–

“All perfumed and poofy-tailed–“

–bastard.

“–and shaved!”

No.

“Another Schnauzer, then?”

No more dogs.

“A girl Schnauzer would work!  We can shave her!”

Nobody’s shaving any dogs, because we’re not getting any more dogs.

“She’d have to have her face shaved, in the very least.  The mustache and beard would just make her look menopausal.  Oh — no offense, Karen.”

Get back in the crate.

 

Iggy really wants your vote.

Hi, everyone.  Just a reminder that today is the last day you can vote for Iggy in that pet photo contest Iggy and I have been telling you about.

“That’s right, Karen.  It’s easy, reader people — click the link and you’ll go straight to my picture.  Simply click ‘vote’ and you’re done!  Karen says we’re getting a lot of votes but I shouldn’t get my hopes up because there are other dogs with more votes.”

Well, yeah, Iggy, it might be kind of a long shot, but it’s worth a try.

“Yep.  So please vote for me, reader people.”

Thank you.

“Or I’ll die.”

Wait, what?  You’re not going to die, Iggy.  It’s just a photo contest.

“Okay, vote for me or I’ll eat this kitten.”

You don’t have a kitten.

“The reader people don’t know that!  They can’t see what I’m doing right now!”

That doesn’t mean you can lie to them.  

“Yes it does!”

No, Iggy.  Nobody’s dying, nobody’s getting eaten.  

“I’m waving a crossbow around in a room full of bunnies, reader people!”

You’re in your crate with a chewy hedgehog and a toy sheep.  

“It’s gonna be a baby bunny bloodbath!”

No it isn’t.  

“Is!”

Stop it, Iggy.

“Well, can I get some bunnies?”

No.

“One bunny?”

No.

“I’d like one bunny and a crossbow, please.”

No.

“How about a poodle?”

Lay down, Iggy.

“We’re gonna lose.”

 

Iggy approves a campaign ad.

Fluffy says he wants to win the Publix Paws Photo Contest to get a supermarket gift card for his human. What Fluffy doesn’t say is that he favors cutting funds for early childhood education.

Lulu likes to talk about how sweet she appears with a squeaky toy in her mouth and a tutu around her waist. But when will Lulu talk about ISIS? Or is Lulu a secret terrorist sympathizer?

And isn’t Bongo just adorable with his football chew toy? But if Bongo had his way, we’d all have Ebola right now.

Vote for Iggy so your children don’t end up imbecile hostages with Ebola.

I’m Iggy, and I approve this message.

 

Iggy asks for your vote.

“Hi reader people — Iggy here!  You know that photo contest Karen and I have mentioned before?  Well, it’s still going on.  You can vote every day through October 21st.  Karen looked at the vote count and thinks we might have a decent shot at making it to the finals!”

Well, I’m not entirely sure, but so far it’s going okay. 

“Yay!  So please click here to vote for me.”

Yes, Iggy and I would greatly appreciate it.  The link will take you straight to Iggy’s picture — just click the “vote” button and you’re done.

“Yes!  Vote for me!  Otherwise, so help me, I’ll pee on everything you hold dear!”

Iggy!  

“What!  I want to be persuasive.”

Persuasive is fine.  Threatening is not.  Readers, I promise, Iggy won’t pee on any of your belongings.

“Just a little bit?”

No.

“Fine.  Please vote for me, reader people, despite the fact that there will be no repercussions if you don’t.”

Much better, Iggy.

 

 

Iggy, outside.

“So much time in solitary–“

You’re not in prison, Iggy, you’re getting over heartworm treatment.  

“–but still, I remember this.”

What do you remember?

“The breeze.  The smell of grass.  The feel of the sun on my fur.  I remember it all.”

You should, you were just outside ten minutes ago.  Are you gonna pee or what?

“Ooh, a small slug crushed between my toes.  I remember that too.”

Oh, yuck.  Come on, we’re going back inside.

“Wait!  Let me walk just a few feet over this way.”

Okay.  Are you finally going to pee?

“Let me sniff a little.”

Okay.  Then you’ll pee?

“I might.  I just might.  Just need to sniff a bit.  No, a few feet over this way, let me sniff here.  Maybe.  I might.  Hmm.  No, a few feet this way.  Wait, no, just a few steps over towards here.  No — wait, no, maybe.  I might.  Okay — oh wait, hang on–“

Iggy, come on.  You can’t be outside this long.

“One second, let me just sniff here.  Wait — no.  Over here a couple of feet.  No, over here.  Wait, hang on, I think — no, never mind.  Over here, maybe–“

That’s it, we’re going inside.

“Ah HA!  HERE!”

Okay, good.

“Wait, never mind.”

You don’t really need to pee, do you.

“Not really, no.”

Right.  In we go.  

“Okay.”

Okay, slowly — don’t run through the door, Iggy — slow walk back to the crate.  Let me remove the leash, hang on.  Okay, in you go.  

“Okay.”

Good boy.

“Karen?”

No.  You just said you didn’t have to pee.  We’re not going outside again.

“You didn’t ask if I had to poop.”

Ugh.  Fine.  Okay, come out of the crate — slowly, Iggy.  Let me get the leash on you.  All right, walk — no running!  Good boy.  Walk to the door.  Okay, let’s go.

“Okay, just need to sniff a little bit.  No, a few feet over here.  Hmm.  A few steps this way.  Okay, wait — no.  Let me sniff over there a bit–“

Are you going to poop any time soon?

“No.”

You just said you had to!

“No, I said you didn’t ask me.  I didn’t say what my answer would be.”

Back inside, Iggy.

“Can I bring some slugs with me?”

No. 

“Will you get me a poodle?  I really think I deserve a poodle.”

No.  Get in the crate, Iggy.

Vote for Iggy (again! And again, and again…)

“Hi everyone, Iggy here!  I’d like to take a moment to ask you to vote for me in this contest — it’s sponsored by a supermarket chain and the winner gets $750 in marrow bones and treats.”

Well, actually, it’s a $750 gift card to use in the supermarket.

“Yes.  On marrow bones and treats.”

Or, you know, human food.

“You don’t need human food.”

What?

“Well, look at you.  You could afford to skip a meal or two.”

Watch it, Iggy.

“All of it?  My field of vision isn’t that big.”

You know, it would be easy for me to lose track of how many days you have left in that crate

“I kid!  I kid!  You’re gorgeous!”

Much better.

“You look like a poodle!”

Okay, this is backfiring.  Anyway, readers, please vote for Iggy.  You can vote once every day until the contest ends on October 21st.

“If you had a poofy tail, I’d swear you were a perfectly groomed purebred show dog!”

That’s enough, Iggy.

Iggy, terrifying.

“Hi folks, Iggy here! Getting over heartworms and tired of confinement? Just lie down in your crate and breathe really fast — you’ll be out of the crate and going on a car ride before you know it! Of course, it’s to an emergency vet, but what can ya do.”

What? You did that purposely?

“Huh? Oh… um… hi Karen!”

Don’t “hi” me. You faked that whole thing?

“Um… kind of.”

You scared the hell out of me!

“I went on a car ride! It was fun!”

Fun? At two in the morning?

“Any time is a good time for a car ride!”

No, Iggy, two in the morning is not a good time for a car ride when I have to be at work at eight.

“I didn’t have to be at work, though. It was fine.”

It was not fine, Iggy! I got a huge vet bill!

“It was totally worth it! Car ride!”

Ugh. It’s almost five now. I have to work in three hours. See that bed there? I’m crawling into it now, and I’m going to sleep. Lie down in your crate and nap.

“Okay.”

Good night.

“Good night.”

. . . . .

“Karen?”

Mmmph.

“You asleep?”

Mm hmm.

“Okay.”

Mmmph.

“Gotta pee.”

AAAGGHH!

Morning news update.

“Good morning. I’m Iggy and here is today’s top story. The mini Schnauzer hostage crisis is now in its eleventh day with no sign of a resolution. So far, the captor’s only demands have been ‘sit,’ ‘lie down,’ and ‘stop asking for a poodle’ — none of which will be complied with, due to the stated policy of not negotiating with terrorists.”

I’m not a terrorist, Iggy.

“Some of our sources say the captor denies being a terrorist, most likely believing herself to be a freedom fighter–“

I’m not a freedom fighter either.

“–while others say that she refuses to call herself a freedom fighter, perversely embracing the terrorist moniker.”

Dammit, I’m not a terrorist!

“Little is known about her other than that she has anger issues–“

Ugh. Iggy, I’m not a terrorist or a freedom fighter, and you’re not a hostage. You have to be confined while you recover from your heartworm treatment. It’s for your own good–

“–but it has been confirmed that she says her actions serve some greater good.”

Fine. You can believe what you want.

“We also know that she claims to respect the mini Schnauzer’s beliefs; however, this only adds a layer of hypocrisy to her refusal to release him.”

I’ll be in the kitchen. Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll feed you.

“Once again, today’s top story, the mini Schnauzer hostage crisis enters its eleventh day with no end in sight. I’m Iggy, and that’s the news.”

 

How do you walk a dog recovering from heartworms? Very carefully.

“I like being out in the exercise yard.”

It’s not an exercise yard, Iggy, it’s the sidewalk in front of the house.

“I’m just worried that I’m gonna run into some gang or other and I’m gonna have to defend my turf, you know?”

There’s no gang, there’s no turf. You’re not in prison. You’re confined while you recover from your heartworm treatment.

“Might have to shank a bitch.”

Seriously, Iggy?

“Hey, how come I’m in solitary?”

What do you mean?

“I never see anyone. There’s never anybody else outside when I am.”

You’re not in solitary. I’m just making sure there’s nobody else outside when I walk you because you go crazy when you see people and other animals. It’s really dangerous for your heart rate to rise while you’re recovering.  Your heart and lungs could–

“I don’t go crazy.”

Yes you do.  You pull at the leash and you shriek.

“No I don’t. I’m perfectly– OH MY GOD LOOK IT’S THE CHIHUAHUA! HAMSTER DOG!”

Oh no no no no Iggy no no no–

“GET OVER HERE YOU LITTLE–“

–no no no no no Iggy no Iggy calm down Iggy who’s a good boy calm down please please–

“STOP GRABBING ME! PUT ME DOWN! I WANNA GET THE CHIHUAHUA!”

–look at me Iggy there’s a good boy ssshhhh calm down good boy please calm down Iggy look at me Iggy–

“I’M LOOKING AT YOU! PUT ME DOWN! I WANNA GET THE CHIHUAHUA!”

What’s his problem?

Get away, dog, Iggy’s sick and can’t–

Oooh lemme see! What’s wrong with him?

“HHHOOORRRKKK… PTOOEY!”

–no Iggy don’t spit at the Chihua–

“IT’S EBOLA!”

Aiieeee! Yipe yipe yipe yipe!

“RUN, YOU GERBIL! BWAHAHAHAHA!”

Iggy please calm down, we’re going back in the house now, okay, calm down please calm down, okay back in the house we go, I’m closing the door, please calm down, I’m gonna put you down now, okay down we go, all four feet on the floor, slowly, okay. You all right?

“What? What’s wrong?”

You went crazy just now!

“No I didn’t. I was perfectly fine.”

That was fine to you?!

“Well, no.”

No! It was–

“It was friggin’ awesome, is what it was.”

Get back in the crate, you.

Vote for Iggy!

Hi readers, Karen here.  You know those Facebook contests — “vote very day for my goldfish and I’ll win a vacation to New Jersey,” that sort of thing?  Well, I entered one sponsored by a supermarket chain.  The prize is, appropriately enough, groceries.  Lots and lots of groceries.  I figure this can be Iggy’s way of contributing to the household since he refuses to get a job.  

“I heard that.  I can’t get a job — employers discriminate against heartworm sufferers.  Really, I should sue.”

Who would you sue?  Nobody’s ever turned you down for a job because of heartworms, Iggy.

“How do you know?”

You have to apply for a job before you can be turned down.

“Oh.  Well, I should sue anyway.”

For what?

“I dunno, just in general.”

You do that.

“After my nap.”

Okay, then.  Anyway, readers, I’ve uploaded Iggy’s picture to the contest website, and if you’re so inclined, you can vote for him here.  You can vote once per day, and it runs for the next couple of weeks.  

Thank you.