Spaniels Have Talented Noses

My creativity has been known to slip into other genres, or areas outside this blog. Besides the occasional poem and some children's stories, I've been known to do some creative texting.

My son and I have a tentative agreement as to who will feed the fuzzy, black dogs and when. On those few occasions that he forgets to feed them, Bob, the black spaniel (aka, his dog), sends him reminder texts.

Here is but a small sampling of the "reminder texts" that Bob has sent my son:

I. IS. HUNGWY. Dis bob.

Yo. Hungwy. Nuff said. Dis bob.

Da bob need food! Dis bob.

Umm. Hewo? Emptee bowl? Dis bob.

Hey! Forget sumthin? Dis bob.

Sooooo hungwy! Dis bob.

Foodfoodfoodfoodfood! Dis bob.

Daddy wubs me. He feeding me now! Dis bob.

Hewo. Iss been 18635... umm a wotta time in dog secunds and no food! Dis bob.

Soo fweakin hungwy! Dis bob.

Dood! Food! Need food dood! Dood? Dis bob.

Food make bob happy. Bowl emptee. Dis bob.

Being the awesome 15 year old he is, my son plays along with my creative insanity.

"That's amazing, dad," he exclaims. "How does Bob do it? Text, I mean. Paws?"

"It is amazing," I respond. "That dog has one incredibly talented nose!"

The Battle of Yorktown, Revisited

My son and I sometimes have interesting bouts of "what ifs." Most of the time they are funny and they are always interesting. This one, in particular, is one of my favorites. What if they had cell phones right at the end of the Revolutionary War? While I added a bit, this is the text conversation we came up with:
The date is 1781...
LCCORN: OMG! We lost!
KGIII: wat's omg. wht havew e lost.? Whhois ths?
LCCORN: Lord Charles Cornwallis. The commander of your forces, King George.
KGIII: Ths isnot a fnny jok e.
LCCORN: No joke, sire. Please give the phone to that 15yo errand boy, my king.
KGIII: Where are you exactly?
LCCORN: That's better. Yorktown, Virgina, my king.
KGIII: Where?! And where's that rescue fleet? Should be there any moment.
LCCORN: The colonies, sire. The French drove them off.
KGIII: The French? Against the English Navy? We will address your humor upon your return, lccorn!
KGIII: Sit tight. The French. Hah. My navy will be right there.
LCCORN: We're surrounded, sire. We're trapped. It is over.
KGIII: Pishposh! Let me talk to General Howe.
LCCORN: Quit. 3 years ago. Remember?
KGIII: How about General Clinton?!
LCCORN: He's in New York, my king.
KGIII: Where?!
LCCORN: Up north, far away from me, sire.
KGIII: Sit tight, you wimp. Trapped by a ragtag army! Hah!
KGIII: Getting text from navy now. Stay in touch.
RYLNAVY: My king. We're back in New York. The French. I can explain...