The Pet Lady


Before both my sister and I left for college, my mother bought a charming Cairn terrier puppy with the belief that our departure would bring to her life the Empty Nest feelings—feelings this Toto dog could remedy. Little Beasley, as the puppy came to be known, grew up to be a playful and energetic, though still small, dog. Some would call him yippy.

Like many small, nervous pups, Beasley likes to play, and he likes to play rough. He likes to frolic around and curiously bite at fingers and ears, etc. He is not a violent dog, as he has no malice in his little heart, and only occasionally does he break skin. He is certainly not a dog amused with a pat on the back and a biscuit.

The problem, Ms. Pet Lady, is this: Now that I have left the fair City of Seattle and reside in our Nation's Capital, I have learned that Beasley is considerably depressed and humdrum. I just know that this is a result of not having anyone to play with, as my mother will not tolerate his nips, and neither will the felines. Telephone conversations have not eased his sorrow, and I fear his depression is worsening. Returning home is not an option, as I am in the running for a White House internship. What am I to do?

Worried About Beasley in D.C.


The Pet Lady has been in receipt of your letter for quite some time but has only been capable of lying wanly upon the divan of late. However, as the Pet Father once wisely said, "We must all go on," and one little sad dog needs assistance. Thus, onward.

It occurs firstly to the Pet Lady that perhaps in your absence little Beasley could avail himself of some sort of rent- a-frolic by arrangement with a neighborhood child or children, which has the added advantage of allotting them less time for Ring-a-Ding-Ditch and setting things on fire. Another option would be to get Beasley a pet of his own; the Pet Lady envisions an enormous, calm dog who would balefully tolerate Beasley's incessant assault, which would have the added advantage of being fun to watch.

Of course, the course of action that you, dear W.A.B.I.D., reject outright is the best one; your mother, Beasley, and the Pet Lady all want you to come back home to the nest where you belong. Our nation's capital is no place for such an obviously thoughtful and loving young person, and the idea of your working in the White House gives the Pet Lady a chill on a number of levels. Just consider it, for Beasley's sake.

Peace to you, yours, and all.

The Pet Lady

The Pet Lady needs a highball. Send your pet queries and photos to The Pet Lady, c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104, or e-mail

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