Tag humor

Iggy suffers an unforeseen, tragic side effect.

Karen 6 Comments

Sadly, during his heartworm treatment, Iggy went country.

Wormy Heart, by Iggy

I was a schnauzer
And she was my gal
Then one day she got in his truck
They drove away
She’s stayed gone to this day
And now I’m a miserable f–

Whoa there, language, Iggy!

She left me a note
And in it she wrote
The reasons she felt we must part
‘Your drinking, carousing,
‘Your barking and schnauzing
‘But mostly your cold, wormy heart.’

Schnauzing?

“Yeah. I’m a Schnauzer. We schnauze.”

You schnauze?

“Yep.”

Schnauze.

“Schnauze.”

You’re making that up.

“Kind of, yeah.”

Go rest in your crate. Meanwhile, I’ll call the vet and see if there’s anything he can prescribe that’ll prevent any more outbursts of country, because that was terrifying just now.

Quick health update.

Karen 8 Comments

Just spoke to the veterinary technician at the animal hospital where Iggy is being treated for his heartworms.  Talking about his appetite, she said, “It’s fine.  We gave him a bowl of food just now, and he ate the bowl.”

Oh, good, he ate all of it.

“No.  I mean, yeah.”

What?

“He ate all of it, but then he ate the bowl.”

I kid you not.

The heartbreak of heartworms.

Karen 14 Comments

Hi, everyone — Karen here, without Iggy. Iggy tested positive for heartworms a little while back, and he’s currently at the vet for Immiticide injections to kill the worms. He’s coming home tomorrow, but from what I understand, the treatment is probably making him pretty sore and lethargic, so it’ll be a while before it’s business as usual again here at The Iggy Dialogues.

In the meantime, I’m calling the vet to check up on him. It’s ringing now, so — oh, hang on.

Hello, Animal Hospital.

Hi, this is Karen, checking up on Iggy. Could you tell me how he’s doing?

Hi, Karen. I know Iggy got his first shot this morning.

How’s he handling it?  Is he feeling okay, or is he hurting?  Sleeping a lot?

I guess he’s doing okay so far.

You guess? What’s going on?

You know what, I’m going to put you through to the doctor. One moment.

Okay, readers, this is worrying me–

Hello, Karen?

Hi, Doc. How’s Iggy?

Well, he got his first injection this morning, and he’s–

“IS THAT HER?!”

Down, boy. So, Iggy had–

“LEMME TALK TO HER! GIMME THE PHONE! GIMME THE PHONE! KAREN? HELP!”

Down, boy. As I was saying, he had the first injection, and it doesn’t appear to have affected his behavior–

“GIMME THE PHONE OR SO HELP ME, I WILL PEE IN YOUR RECEPTION AREA LIKE YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN PEE BEFORE!”

–which I suppose could be viewed as a positive–

“NEVER MIND A MOP, YOU BASTARDS ARE GONNA NEED AN ARK!”

–depending on your perspective.

“YOU HEAR ME?  AN ARK!”

As you know, we have no choice but to keep him overnight–

“KAREN! THEY STABBED ME! BUNCH OF SICK SADISTS! HELP ME!! HELLLP MEEEEEE!!”

–so, um, we were all curious as to how early you could come and get him tomorrow?

What time do you open?

We open at 8 AM.

Figure 9 AM, then, to give you time to give him the second shot?

“WHAT’S THIS? OH MY GOD, IT’S A GODDAMNED CHIHUAHUA. I’M IN A CAGE ACROSS FROM A GODDAMNED CHIHUAHUA! HEY, YOU KNOW WHAT ‘CHIHUAHUA’ MEANS IN SPANISH?”

We’d like to give him the second shot earlier in the morning, actually.

“IT MEANS ‘I LOOK LIKE JEFF GOLDBLUM IN THE FLY ONLY SMALLER AND UGLIER,’ THAT’S WHAT IT MEANS!”

How soon can you get here?

Shall I come by as soon as you open?

“KAREN! GET ME OUTTA HERE!”

Please do.   

Of course.

Have a good day.  Iggy, please put back the ferret!

*click*

That’s going well.

 

What dog’s that then?

Karen 8 Comments

“Karen! Karen! Karen! Karen! Karen! Karen!”

What, Iggy?

“Look at me look at me look at me look at me look at–”

Okay, Iggy, relax. I’m looking.

“See?”

I see. 

“Yeah!”

Yeah.  What am I looking at, exactly?

“I’m under a Union flag blanket!”

Yes, you are.

“I’m cool!”

Okay, you’re cool, I guess.

“Just like The Who!”

Oh, dear. Iggy, The Who are not cool.

“Are too!”

Iggy, listen to me. They went on their first farewell tour when I hit puberty. They’re still farewell-touring and I’m approaching menopause.  I’m not exaggerating.

“Wow–”

Wow indeed, Iggy. They’ve been milking the–

“–you’re old.”

Oh. Great. Thanks. I’m gonna go. You have fun with your blanket.

“I will! I’m cool! I can see for miles and miles and — hmm, well, actually, no, I can’t see much of anything. Uh oh. Karen? Karen? Hello?”

 

I got your grumpy cat right here, pal (and Iggy learns a valuable life lesson).

Karen 9 Comments

Hello, Boo.

Hello human.

What’s wrong?

Everything’s wonderful. What could be wrong?

Don’t get passive-aggressive, Boo. What’s the matter?

Can you explain to me how Grumpy Cat is making movies now?

Her again? You have to get over your fixation with —

She’s not even grumpy. She’s just deformed.

Okay —

Whereas I am genuinely disgusted.

True —

Thoroughly, honestly disgusted.

Okay —

You all make me sick.

All right, stop that, Boo.  That’s no way to go through life.

I know this, human. I’m making changes.

Good.

“Hi Karen!”

Hi Iggy.

“Hi Boo!”

Hello, schnauzer.

“Karen, what’s a kidney?”

What? Why?

“Boo looked sad. I wanted to cheer her up. She asked for one.”

From where exactly?

“Dunno.  She said she wants one of mine, but I was looking. I have my Kermit doll and my squeaky chicken, but I don’t see a kidney? Is that the new one you gave me?”

No, that’s a toy sheep, not a kidney.

“Oh. Then where do I –”

You don’t. 

“But then how–”

Iggy, listen to me, this is important.  

“Okay.”

Never promise any of the cats a kidney.

“Oh.  Okay.”

Good boy.

What’s so good about him?  I ask him for a kidney, I don’t get the kidney.  ‘Good boy’ my furry calico ass.  

Boo, you can’t disembowel Iggy.

How is that disemboweling?  It’s one kidney.  He has another one.  There’d be plenty left of him.

I don’t care how many internal organs he has, you can’t have any of them.  

You tell me I should be happy, then you stand in my way.

I meant by playing with toys or watching the birds outside or interacting more with the other cats.

I hate the other cats.  I want meat.

Well, that’s easy enough.  I can get you treats.

I want dog meat.

You’re not getting dog meat.

Schnauzer entrails.

No, Boo.  Not happening.   

I don’t know why I bother.  There’s no talking to you.    

You have the run of the house, Boo.  You just can’t open up the dog.

I’m disgusted.  I’m leaving. 

Fine.

You all make me sick.


AHEM.

Karen 10 Comments

“I’m BAAAAACK!”

Okay, Iggy, that’s a bit much, don’t you think?

“You wouldn’t let me say what I wanted.”

What was that?

“Heeeeere’s IGGY!” 

Yeah, a little bit creepy.  You’re not an axe murderer.

“No.”

Indeed.

“I’d need opposable thumbs.”

Try not to evolve any time soon, then, okay?

“No choice.”

No, I suppose not.

“I’m working on it, though.”

I’m hiding the knife rack.

“Awww!”

M.C. Iggy returns! (You knew this was coming.)

Karen 6 Comments

Yo, M.C. Iggy in the house, y’all, pickin’ up the treats and droppin’ the beats!

First things first, I’m the cutest

Down girl, you know the whole world knew this

And I’m still in the schnauza bizness

I could wag my tail so hard it defies physics

You should want a bad dog like this

Drop my toy and pick it up just like this

High tail, something worth half a twenty on my neck

Bag of treats when I’m hangin’ on the deck

Takin’ all the squirrels down, gonna chase that

Kibble spillin’, you should taste that

I be the I– um…

“…hmm. Psst, Karen?”

Yes?

“How do I… you know.”

Oh.  I-g-g-y.

I be the I-G-G-Y! Put my name in bold

I been barking, I ain’t doin’ anything I’m told!

I’m so fancy

Can you taste this bone

I’m in the fast lane

To the dog park and then back home

Who that, who that?

I-G-G-Y!

That chew that, chew that?

I-G-G-Y!

“That was exhausting.  I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

You were on the couch the whole time.  

“Yeah, but I’m staying on the couch, is my point.”

It’s about time you figured out how to stay.

“What?”

Nothing.  Go to sleep.

“Will do!”

(By the way, readers, here’s the actual song.)  

Peer pressure.

Karen 8 Comments

 

“This is uncomfortable.”

You’re getting subcutaneous fluids. You’re dehydrated. Hold still. 

“My skin is stretching.  Yuck.”

It’s temporary.  Your body will absorb it, and you’ll be fine.

“I don’t like it here.”

Then why did you make me bring you?

“I dunno.”

Yes you do. Tell me why.

“Well, you know how the cats throw up a lot?”

They never stop reminding me.  Comes with being a cat, I think.

“I thought maybe if I joined in, they’d like me.”

Brilliant.  Did you ever think of just keeping your nose out of their butts?

“Yeah, but I didn’t wanna.  This was a better idea.”

It was?  How’d it work out for you, Quasimodo?

“Shut up.”

 

 

 

Iggy does the math.

Karen 8 Comments

“No no no no no no no!”

Aw, come on, Iggy, let me take a picture.

“No!”

Why not?

“You do this all the time. As soon as I settle in to an activity, or lay down for a nap, you go ‘oh how adorable’ and you take pictures. Then you post them on that stupid blog for everyone to see.”

You make it sound like it’s some horrible, intrusive –

“It is intrusive! Did you ever ask if I wanted to be put on display in front of millions of people?”

It’s hardly millions, Iggy.

“Okay, hundreds of thousands, then. I swear, it’s like living with my own personal paparazzi. I can’t get a minute to myself!”

Not hundreds of thousands either.

“Tens of thousands?”

Fewer.

“How much fewer?”

Eighty-two.

“Eighty-two fewer than tens of thousands? Um… nine thousand – no, wait, nine hundred nine? Nine thousand hundred… wait –”

No, Iggy –

“I know, that’s wrong. Nine… no. Ninety-nine… ninety… ninety-ninety-ninety? Yeah. Ninety-ninety-ninety. Hang on, that can’t be right.”

No, I mean not tens of thousands –

“Purple!”

What?

“Purple is less than thousands, right?”

What are you talking –

“Fish hundred purple!”

You all right?

“Aw, now I’m confused. Math is numbers, right? Purple’s a number – no, wait. Is it? I’m lost! HELP ME! I DID TOO MUCH MATH!”

Okay, Iggy, let’s start again. The blog doesn’t have tens of thousands of followers.

“Thousands is less than millions, and… um… purple is less than thousands? Spoon? No, wait.”

Iggy –

“I can count to five sometimes.”

The blog has eighty-two followers.

“Eighty-two followers?”

Yep.

“Oh. Okay. Is that a lot?”

No, it’s not a lot at all.

“Oh.”

Most people don’t see the pictures I post, so you have nothing to worry about. You’re extremely anonymous.

“So there aren’t millions of people all clamoring for me?”

Nope. Hardly anyone sees you.

“Oh. Um… that’s fine. Eighty-two is a nice number, I guess.”

I’m glad you feel that way.

“‘Cause I suppose having an adoring public might be okay, but it could probably get overbearing after a while.”

That’s a good perspective to have.

“Ugh.”

What’s wrong?

“Only eighty-two followers?!”

Where are you going?

“Clearly your photos aren’t that interesting if we only have eighty-two followers.”

Wait, what are you doing?

“Give me a second, let me get comfortable. Okay, quick, get this shot!”

What on earth –

“Come on! A fluffy mini Schnauzer with a ukulele on his head! That should get the blog some eyeballs!”

I thought you didn’t want –

“Shut up and take the picture!”

Ugh. Fine.

“Lemme know the numbers you get for this one. If this doesn’t work, maybe you could get me some outfits.”

I am not dressing you up, Iggy. Have some dignity.

“I have lots of dignity!”

You sure?

“Plenty!”

Right.

“Millions of dignity!”

That’s not how –

“Purple million and platypus dignity, in fact!”

Okay, then –

“Top that!”

I can’t.

Iggy gets a training aid.

Karen 8 Comments

Iggy, are you still my friend?

“No.”

Oh, come on.

“No. Go away. You’re mean.”

Don’t be like that.

“You put a thing on my snout!”

A head collar.

“I hate it!”

I know. You have to get used to it.

“Why?”

Because it’ll stop you from going haywire when you’re out in public.

“I don’t!”

Iggy, you lunge and shriek at other animals and people.

“Do not!”

What do you call what you did at the pet supply store this afternoon?

“I was just saying hi.”

At the top of your lungs.

“Well, the other dogs were really far away. You humans are huge. You have no idea how big that place is to us dogs.”

You freaked out everyone in the store.

“I was being friendly!”

You lunged at them.

“I was greeting them!”

And the non-stop, ear-piercing shrieks?

“I was saying hi!”

They were running for an interior room.

“I was being polite!”

They thought the county set off their tornado warning siren.

“Well, an interior room would be the best place to go if a tornado’s coming.”

The sound shattered the front window.

“What, is there a glass shortage? They can’t get another window?”

The police were called, Iggy.

“Well, it’s their job to aid the citizens of –”

They thought the store was under attack.

“It was just a busted window.”

They notified the Federal government.  Now I need lawyers to somehow convince the United States Department of Homeland Security not to classify you as a weapon.

“Ooh. They should. That would be so badass!”

I’m on the no-fly list now!

“But you can’t go anywhere anyway. I’m adorable and you can’t bear to leave me, right?”

Oh, and did I mention we’re not allowed back into any pet supply stores within a 50 mile radius until you stop shrieking and lunging?

“Wait, what?”

So unless you stop, I have no way to buy you your chewy hedgehogs anymore.

“No more chewy hedgehogs?”

Nope.  No more.

“I’m sorry! I’ll wear the head collar! I promise!”

Good boy.

“Can I have a hedgehog please?”

Will you be my friend again?

“Fine.  You win.”

Good boy.