A Few Words About Your Quilting

By: Your Dog

Well, hello there, human whom I adore above all others. How are you? I must say, you are looking particularly lovely. Did you do something different with your crotch? It’s really quite compelling today and I will be pushing my nose into it at every possible opportunity.  Oh and hey, I know we were just out there and I did absolutely nothing other than attempt to sniff other people’s crotches and then annihilate the Doberman down the road with my frenzied, high-pitched yipping, but I kind of need to go back out. For real this time. No, really. Really. No? We’re not going? Well, okay then, but I’m sure you understand that your refusal is a tacit agreement not to yell or make that frowny mad face when the next loud noise causes what we in the canine community like to call a “sudden evacuation event.”

I see you are headed into your sewing room, and I of course will follow you in there because 1) I adore you, 2) I have not licked your face nearly enough today, and 3) I assume we will be going in there to play. Now, heretofore we have not done any playing in that room, but I’m sure this is just an oversight on your part and not an organized campaign to prevent all Good Boy Playtime in your personal space. I know you are the wisest creature of us all and so you can obviously see the many wonderful ways we can whoop it up in your special room, but I also know you are very busy doing crucial tasks such as planning my meals, embodying interesting smells, and plotting the demise of that damn Doberman, and so some of these may not have occurred to you lately. Please allow me to enumerate:

  1. I can stand near a table and wag my tail so hard that I sweep several things onto the floor, which I will then bark at.
  2. I can run at top speed from one end of the room to the other. And, because the room is actually quite small, this will cause me to comically run into all kinds of objects, which I will then bark at.
  3. I can put my nose veeeery close to that noisy machine thing that goes up and down while you playfully push me away. (Not as fun because there’s not as much barking potential, but still acceptable.)
  4. OR—now hear me out on this one—I can go get that tennis ball I found in the gutter and get it nice and slobbery, just the way I like it, and then you can hide it somewhere under all those pretty colorful flat dog beds you keep in there and then I can root around with my wet nose and my claws until I find it! And then we can do it again! And again! Until we pass out or get to go back outside, whichever comes first.

I’m sure you in your infinite wisdom know of several more and I am here to tell you that I am open to any and all suggestions.

And while we are on the subject of the colorful flat dog beds you like to make, I’m afraid we need to have a little chat about the one you are currently working on. Now you know I don’t like to complain—unless we’re going to the vet and then all bets are off—but I have to admit I am kind of confused about why you would make me a flat dog bed with cats all over it. Cats. You are, of course, the best and smartest human in all the land, but have you been eating strange pills you find in the bathroom trash can like I did that one time and I saw new colors? Perhaps your exceedingly kind and generous nature has blinded you to the realities of the feline personality, which I will enumerate for you here:

  1. They are assholes.
  2. Such assholes.
  3. They will bite your tail when you aren’t looking and then jump on your back and ride you around the house while sinking their claws into your flesh like some sort of demon cowboy and when you finally shake them off you’re too traumatized to bark at them properly.
  4. And—I’m so sorry to have to tell you this—they do not believe that you are the most wonderful and benevolent human who has ever walked this earth. Can you believe that? They think you are “okay.” OKAY. If this is not blasphemy of the highest order I do not know what is, and I must recommend that all felines be banished from this house immediately, including those printed on fabrics that will eventually become my snooze mats.

I of course defer to you in all things but have you considered all of the other design options out there? Perhaps you could acquire fabrics that depict nice slobbery tennis balls or perhaps a glorious array of squeaky toys shaped like human foods I am not actually allowed to eat. Or—now hear me out on this one—perhaps the entire flat dog bed could depict the epic saga of the Good Boy Wonder Dog who was most excellent at fetching balls, barking at things, and giving expert advice to his favorite human. I promise you, if you were to make that, I would chew on it more than anything else in the entire house, including your phone.

I know you are very excited to get on that project right away and I want to encourage you in that endeavor, but first I need to go root around in the kitchen garbage for a quick snack while you take care of our little furry demon problem. Let’s meet back here in ten minutes and we can celebrate with tummy rubs and a walk! Yay!

Oh, oops. Never mind on the walk.


Megan Dougherty has been blogging and quilting as The Bitchy Stitcher since 2008. She was the humor columnist for Quilter’s Home magazine andGeneration Q magazine, and was also the art director at GenQ for its first year. Her first book, Quilting Isn’t Funny, is available in paperback and Kindle on amazon.com. Follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

Megan Dougherty

Creator of the Quilter’s Shirtless Man and Spicy Burrito Calendar
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