Dear Izzy’s family,

I so sympathize with your loss of Izzy, whether over the Rainbow Bridge or in one of the rooms of your home. Last year we lost Brisby, our Senior-level Administrative Canine. As he was a Very Good Boy, he too traveled the Rainbow Bridge, according to my Giants. After weeks of tears, they seemed to find tranquility sharing that beautiful rainbow image. Although to us Canines, such a bridge would be perceived in various shades of grey.

A lovely metaphor, though. I hope it’s true. Brisby would have liked that. He enjoyed his walks and I’ll bet a rainbow smells great!

So, how long before a new Canine should be inducted into your pack? For us, a year passed. Then came Cheadle.

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Dear Smart-ass,

You might not enjoy hearing this, but I cannot rail against billionaires as I am one.

Apparently, this advice column business pays rather well, I’m told by my unpaid intern Per Se who handles all my finances. I find “Money” quite confusing, so at Per Se’s urging, I assigned to him control of my assets, investments, and savings. He says he’ll only alert me if funds run so low that I can’t afford new tug-tug toys. Per Se insists that I’ve a million billion “moneys”, which is like 10 in dog years, so I’ve no worries.

I mention this because despite my enormous wealth I was denied a berth on the historic flights of both Jeff and Sir.

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Dear Eyes and Dillie,

I was eager to scrutinize this long-anticipated, highly technical report on Unidentified Aerial Phenomena. My initial impressions were that it was written on paper that shredded easily but was very chewy.

For a deeper dive, I had my unpaid intern Per Se actually read the nine-page report, which he did with a speed and professionalism borne of having thumbs. In his PowerPoint, Per Se outlined the report’s conclusions: the U.S. government doesn’t know what these UFOs are or if they’re extraterrestrial.

Also, why the report is so chewy.

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Dear Alex and Jess,

Let’s first address that elephant in the room, which in this case is a Labrador Retriever. I’ve known many Labradors, frolicked with them, even sat with some on the boards of large nonprofit corporations. Some are good dogs, some Very Good Dogs. But intelligent? On a scale of one to ten, with me at the top, I’d give them a “Meh!” plus.

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Dear Caryn,

Zoe is just playing a game with you. A dark and dangerous game. But before we explore that, and possibly recommend martial arts training, let’s better understand this behavior that Giants call “stealing” and Canines define as “adding to my permanent on-loan collection.”

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Dear J. Bbfupt,

You’re referring, I’m sure, to the recent pilot study at the University of Helsinki in which Finnish scientists are deploying a randomized, double-blind study to determine if canines can scent a specific olfactory signature of the novel coronavirus in the effluvium of test subjects’ secretions.

Like many of my readers, I was unclear on a couple of these concepts, such as Helsinki, Finnish, deploy, randomized, double-blind, scent, olfactory, novel, effluvium, test subjects, secretions, and Bbfupt.

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Dear SS,

I never wear a mask for reasons of both style and snout. Style, because I’m averse to anything that blocks my black-and-white, charmingly uneven, Giant-delighting beard. It’s what got me adopted. And keeps me in bacon bits.

Snout, because…well, sufficient lengths of fabric have yet to be found. Possibly my Giants’ bed linens could serve, but years ago we negotiated an agreement. They would maintain limited control of the bed; I would be adopted and kept in bacon bits.

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Dear Big Goofs,

This pandemic reminds us that Canines and Giants have much in common besides Netflix. We are gregarious, social animals that need to interact with our own kind. Both species are vulnerable to despair without familiar contact, without friendly communication, without ravioli stuffed with ricotta.

For Giants, Zoom is arguably the greatest communications advancement since yelling. Zoom is an easy, reliable cloud platform for video and audio conferencing, collaboration, chat, and webinars across mobile devices, desktops, telephones, and room systems, as I understand it.

OK, I don’t understand it. It’s written on this card my unpaid intern Per Se just handed me. Well, read to me. I don’t understand writing either.

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Dear Charles,

I’m still trying to wrap my teeth around this pandemic. However, I wasn’t schooled in the Sciences. Or anything, really, if we’re to believe my report card from Intermediate Obedience Class. (Comments: “Budleigh doesn’t Heel up to potential.”)

To better understand the COVID 19 Coronavirus, I turned to my science advisor Jellybean, an Appenzeller Sennenhund—a breed that also sounds like a virus.

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Dear JP,

By a happy coincidence, elections for Alpha are coming up soon in our dog park. Much like Giant elections, campaigning has been spirited, robust, and in a few tragic cases, feral. That last usually among candidates who were off leash.

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Dear Andrea and QQ,

During my early days in the shelter, canine lifers who mocked my Hapsburg jaw were quickly introduced to its weaponized teeth. Admittedly, I’m sensitive about my profile. Learning to be comfortable in my own fur took the patience of two devoted Giants, my secured ownership of their home, and access to cornbread. A lot of cornbread.

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Dear Jennie and friend,

What a wonderful tradition is Hallmark holiday movie season! My Giants and their Giant Relatives gather ‘round the television, laugh and cry, share memories, and, with any luck, spill food on the floor. Truly, a Season of Grabbing.

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Dear J. J. and Tinker,

Happy to assist. Fashion is my life! Just after killing chipmunks. Oh, and tug-tug.

Full disclosure, though: With the exception of my collar, I’ve never worn any fashions. Yes, there was a brief afternoon when my Giants and I “discussed” a no-pull dog harness. That didn’t end well. For anyone.

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Dear Kevin and Loki,

Jealous? More like envious. Proud, brave, and uncomplaining despite having to wear harnesses, our fearless military warriors are trained in narcotics and explosives detection, search and rescue, security, and tracking.

I can steal socks from the laundry basket, but there seems little call for that skill set.

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Dear Greg,

I’ve thought to give a TED talk. Especially in advance of the release of my self-help book, “How to Be Less Whatever It Is You Are and More Me.” But while I lecture extensively, and often to groups that are feral, TED might not be my ideal forum.

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Dear Dale and Kippy,

Kippy’s right. Government has failed. So screams my Yelly Giant who throws a lot of stuff at Anderson Cooper.

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Dear Miriam and Anka,

Which ones are Shar Peis? With the wrinkly faces, right? Maybe Anka’s excited but you can’t tell.

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Dear Coward,

In typical Giant fashion you’ve reacted to overblown reports of “spiders the size of dinner plates” before asking, “Who’s dinner?”

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Dear Closing,

While I sympathize with your trauma, as a dog I just can’t relate. Giants are so reticent to discuss poop. Until they get old. Then that’s all they talk about.

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Dear Single,

Yes, I’m a dog. And while it’s reasonable to ask my credentials, perhaps you’re just avoiding the real question: What’s a Samoyed?

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Dear Claire S.,

First, the correct term is daylight saving time. A Giant shouldn’t need a Terrier to tell her that.

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Dear Sam & Mighty,

To be honest, Giant money confuses me. What is it, one dollar equals seven dog years or something like that? I have a Giant Intern to deal with all that.

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Dear Jacob,

There’s a lot to unpack here, Jacob. First, your claim that Poolie eats more cicadas than any other dog.

You may be a Giant, sir, but how dare you! I’ve eaten nearly all the cicadas, so your bragging is like a gauntlet across my muzzle. Were you here and not Northfield, whatever that is, you’d leave me little recourse but to ask you and Poolie to step outside. Which is where I keep my cicadas.

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Dear Janelle,

Separation from their dogs can be a very emotional issue for Giants. The best approach is first to ask yourself, “Just how many Satanists live in the neighborhood?”

For me, I suspect two, those Giants who own the black dog with the pointy ears who pees – and I’ve witnessed this! – on my hydrangea shrubs. Tell me that isn’t the act of Lucifer’s hellhound.

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Dear T.W. & Chip,

It will come as no surprise to longtime readers that I have a very strong opinion on this issue, which is “What’s cloning?”

Usually when faced with a controversial topic I’m not familiar with, my Giants research it by watching MSNBC then yelling at each other until I find clarity. Since they were busy binge watching The Crown, I explored the issue using SIRI. He’s this Airedale I know from the dog park.

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Dear Larry,

OK, let’s all stop ignoring the touchy issue of wild animals and squarely address what I call the “coyote in the dog park.”

That is to say, Oh m’God, there is a Coyote in the Dog Park!

Recently I was walking my Giant through the neighborhood and was examining a particularly interesting pile of leaves when he shrieked like a chew toy, then yanked uncomfortably on our lifeline.

And just a quick word to Giants about the lifeline: Don’t call it a “leash”. That’s offensive. It’s like calling your dog a “mutt” instead of a “genetically diverse fur-enhanced co-worker.”

Sorry, but it had to be said.

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Dear Jan W.,

Just so we’re all on the same page, Fooby’s a stuffed dog, right? And he’s always been stuffed?

If so, it’s not too late for your toddler to be rehabilitated.

Although unavoidable, mixing dogs and little Giants can be tricky. As Fooby learned to his sorrow, little Giants view dogs as a collection of removable parts in a Fisher-Price “My First Mammal” play set.

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Dear Baldur,

My Yelly Giant often remarks that, “The best therapy dog comes in little, blue pills!” Then, he laughs. A lot! Sometimes cries.

He means, I assume, that to pursue this higher calling, canines must understand the difference between being a therapy dog, trained to provide comfort and affection, and a service dog, permitted to carry a concealed firearm.

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Dear Michael M.,

I’ve heard about Storm’s dramatic rescue, but not seen it because I can’t access social media due to paws.

However, my Giants seemed quite taken with the story, watching it repeated on the news shows, praising Storm with teary eyes, then sighing at me.

OK, Giants, message received!

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Dear Ingrid G.

“Salutary”? Don’t know that word, but if it means “with sauce”, then I agree!

My Giants are avid readers of the New York Times, and, of course, as a puppy I often peed on it. So I’m well familiar with the high quality and absorbency of that paper’s content. And their story spotlights a major controversy: Should a travel ban be placed on micro-organisms seeking to enter our homes?

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Dear Jacob,

On advice of counsel, I’ve been told not to recommend specific brands of dog food until such time as they pay my Giant.

However, since I’m a terrier rules don’t apply to me. So I’m not afraid to name names. The best tasting, most nutritious and economical dry food for Roscoe comes in that big bag with a picture of a dog on it.

It’s also available in a smaller bag that features a picture of a dog. Only a smaller dog.

There! Now I’ve done it. Let the law suits begin!

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Dear Lisa,

To be clear, I’m not a doctor, although I do have a license. Also a microchip in my neck.

However, I often counsel fearful dogs – usually while cowering under the bed with them – to help them face their issues, confront their anxieties, and, ideally, share those trails of treats you mentioned.

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Dear Carla,

Labradoodle? Really? That’s a thing now? OK, no judgments.

Much of the blame for Daisy’s – and all dogs’ – reluctance to swallow pills can be laid at the feet of Giant Veterinarians who routinely treat illnesses with medicines rather than exploring alternative cures, like bacon. I may have had no formal education beyond Basic Obedience and Leash Etiquette, (instructor’s critique: “Budleigh doesn’t heel up to potential.”) but if bacon is “cured” and an illness needs a “cure”, well, you do the math, since I can’t.

So, we’re stuck with pills.

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Dear Leia,

Careful here, dear! Because Giants are so adorable, it’s easy to forget that they’re only capable of the most basic feelings and emotions like joy, fear, and overdrawn.

Giants that excitedly ask, “Who’s a good dog”, especially while repeatedly slapping their thighs and comically widening their eyes, are revealing more about themselves that about you. “Who’s a good dog” is simply a reliable indicator of your Giant’s good health, especially when their nose is moist and their coat glossy and lustrous.

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Dear Pebbles,

I feel your pain. Or might, if you’re biting, too.

You’re being far too hard on yourself when, of course, Society is to blame. I’m not sure who “Society” is, but my yelly Giant blames Society a lot. I think Society is that Giant, Steve, down the street who doesn’t return power tools.

Pebbles, you ask how to curb this behavior. I ask you, “Why?” Lunging and barking ferociously is just one dog’s way of saying to another, “Can I give you my business card?”

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Dear Minnie,

Labs are nice, too.

Budleigh

Dear Ms Bend-Indiana,

Is the collar for you or a dog? That’s not clear. If it’s for a dog, then yes, I can advise. If it’s for you, seek professional help immediately! But I’m guessing it’s for a dog, right?

Giants love to buy collars for their dogs, especially during the holidays. I heard that in the weekend following Thanksgimme Day, more than 154 million Giants went shopping. I don’t know if they all got me new collars or just chipped in for one really, really nice one. But I wish they’d asked me first. I don’t want a new collar. No dogs do.

Sorry I said “dog do”, but this issue is that important.

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Dear RC,

What religion are dogs? That’s a question I get a lot.

I’ve been told – and firmly believe – that “dog” backwards is “god”. I’ve also heard that “terrier” backwards is “god”. Oh, and “cheese” backwards? Also “god”.

I have faith that these are all true, because I can’t spell. Not even sure what “spell” is. But I do know this: parrots are nuts! And scary!

Don’t worry about Grimace. He seems spiritually grounded. I’m a bit concerned about your family, though.

Budleigh

Thank you, Denise S Deerfield Illinois,

I’m probably a cross between a terrier and terrier, although not the same terrier. I’ll never know. I was a shelter dog, but I’m not bitter about that. And yes, everyone is jealous of me except the chipmunks in the Giants’ garden who know only fear.

And respect.

Budleigh

Dear Donna,

My Giants would like that. They’ve been waiting to win a championship for 756 dog years. Me? I’m not sure. I’m good at chasing balls. Just not so much at giving them back. Is that gonna be a problem?

Budleigh