The Pet Lady

Dear Pet Lady,

My Jack Russell terrier communicates with me telepathically. He keeps telling me that Henry Kissinger, Queen Elizabeth, and the Freemasons are conspiring to destroy my credit rating and return us to the gold standard. Should I change his diet?

Fearful in Forks

Dear Tearful,

The Pet Lady takes umbrage at your insinuation and, furthermore, would like to state for the record that while she finds supporters of Mr. Nader such as yourself charmingly idealistic, a lot more is at stake in this election: namely, vehicular pride. Mr. Nader's histrionic tome Unsafe at Any Speed still keeps the Pet Lady up nights fretting; and though the cover bears a fetching photo of a young, earnest, not unattractive Ralph, he has done little to attempt to win back the Corvair-owner vote. The Pet Lady resents the snippy chapter title "The sporty Corvair: The 'one-car' accident," which impugns the automotive competence of all Corvair owners. The Pet Lady's 1963 Corvair Monza has never been anything but a source of joy and comfort to the Pet Lady, except for the time she ran out of fuel in the fast lane northbound on I-5, which—owing to her distraction by Al Green on KSRB 1150AM ("The soul is in the sound")—was entirely the Pet Lady's own fault.

The Pet Lady

Dear Pet Lady,

My three-year-old mixed-breed dog wants to drive. She sits in my lap with her paws on the wheel and already knows how to use cruise control. How can I raise the pedals for her to reach?

Traveling in Tacoma

Dear Unraveling,

As for the competition, the Pet Lady is in a state of perpetual disbelief about Junior, whom an esteemed colleague recently described in these pages as a "dim bulb." Although W. is a dog owner, it's painfully apparent that he did not inherit the family genius of his mother Barbara's best-selling spaniel authoress Millie. And, on the other hand, Mr. Gore is quite handsome in a wooden sort of way, though he has not yet taken an official stance on what, if any, pets he intends to bring to the White House besides his wife the harpy. Ah, well, life is about compromises, as the first Mr. Pet Lady used to say (not that that platitude got him anywhere). But should the Dim Bulb become the next President of the United States of America, the Pet Lady will be corresponding from Spain. Buenos días, animalitos mios.

The Pet Lady

Bunny rabbits are united in their opposition to Slade. E-mail thepetlady@seattleweekly.com or actually write on monogrammed stationery to: The Pet Lady, c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle WA 98104.

 
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