Well, sort of. Okay, I confess: I did not in fact eat, lick or nibble my dog in any way. It's not even on my "to-do" list, if I'm totally honest. Thus begins today's post.
Let me explain. I'll never understand the ins and outs of the Internet. Yesterday, I posted a tale about the Cat Person that my husband used to be (until one cat rejected me, and one cat rejected the neighbors' practice of making our yard the cat bathroom). While doing my usual link ups to various social media, one of those went absolutely bonkers and I got six times the readers I normally get.
Hey, thanks, guys! But I have to ask - what was so great about that one post that generated the big bump in readership?
# 3 Son, Gonzo, and I have a theory that it was the disturbing coupling of the word "husband" and "kill." Apparently, in our view of the internet, wives troll various social media sites in search of ways to either kill their husbands OR gain voyeuristic pleasure from reading about how others did the dirty deed. Anyway, that became what we named "Theory Number One," subtitled "People are Freaky."
Then # 2 Son, Magoo, called to chat and I mentioned that Gonzo and I were just talking about the bump in numbers on the blog. He promptly proclaimed my utter lack of cat savvy. He presented "Theory Number Two." No subtitle; let's not overdo it.
"People are cat nuts, Mom. It's because you mentioned the dang cats."
Cat nuts? Hey, I like cats, especially kittens. How can you not like a kitten? They're the cutest things ever and they make a weird "meep, meep" attempt at meowing that it just darling (say that out loud and overemphasize the word darling, in an oh-so-precious way, please). It's the big guy who put the kibosh on cats at our house after he had two who leaked.
We wondered aloud if the same devoted internet following surrounded dogs? Now, I confess, I love dogs. Every dog I ever had was like a kid to me and they all die of old age, with me wrapped around their finger...er, a, paws. I AM dog nuts, I'm not gonna lie. I'd have more than one right now if I could talk Mark into it (we used to have two). I've come close to talking him into getting our poodle, Coco, a playmate. Not for me (ahem) - for poor, lonely Coco.
So, if you clicked to see what possessed me to eat my dog; my apologies. She is still in one piece, with her poodle roast, steaks and giblets intact. Gonzo and I will be watching the computer, trying to see if a crazy title was the key. At least, I admit the ruse. Isn't that better than someone selling all your personal information in a quest to define all the whys of internet without your knowledge? I just manhandled one little click. And I thanked you.