All posts tagged Guess


Daisy Mae’s Secret(s)

Dear Daisy Mae,

I’m writing to spill your greatest secret and to tell your vast readership how you came to be with your Mom and Dad. It was because of me!

You probably don’t know that your Mom and Dad actually babysat me one night when I was just a puppy and my folks had to go out for some obscure reason. (You may have noticed that we live in the same building.)

Naturally, your Mom fell in love with me right off the bat!

The next thing anybody knew, your Mom was calling my Mom and asking if she could come up stairs to visit … me! One thing led to another and your Mom was calling our breeder, Mary Ann Macgregor of Hearthside in Missouri – wherever that is – and looking at you online.

A few days later, my Mom and your Mom and Dad and some other guy went to the airport in Miami to pick you up. I was soooo impressed that you made the trip all by your lonesome. You were 8 weeks old and far too cute. You still are, just not as cute as I am.

Are you ready for the big secret? Your original name isn’t Daisy Mae at all. It’s Donna! At least it was for your first 8 weeks.

The other secret is that Jack the manager of our building, snuggles you every time he sees you, but he snuggles me, too.

Congratulations on your website, Facebook page and Twitter feed. I’m a big fan, or at least I would be if I knew how to get online.

Love, Honey

P.S. Want another secret? We’re half-sisters.
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Cinderella’s Stepsister

Dear Daisy Mae,

I’m about 10 years old I guess. Actually I have no idea how old I am but I do know that for a long time I was the only dog around here and Mom and Pop paid a lot of attention to me. Then they adopted a Yorkie named Chyna (I’m a Maltese, white and elegant if I do say so) and this new critter is acting like the Princess of the apartment and Mom and Pop are buying it! I wish I could just say “Hello, long time loyal dog here. Needs attention” but they would just think I’m barking. What should I do?
Thanks, Paris the (elegant) Maltese

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The Cat’s Pajamas

Dear Daisy Mae,
I scratch and bite at myself all the time. Steroids help but they’re not good for me so I’m off them, at least for a while.

Unfortunately, that meant I wound up with my head surrounded by a cone-collar. I looked like a demented Queen Elizabeth I.

Then, yay!, off came the collar, followed, yikes!, by a pair of pajamas. I look like a blue-eyed ninja. Did I mention that I have bright bluest of blue eyes?

You know why you’ve never heard of cat’s pajamas? Because they’re dangerous. I get all four paws caught up when I try to wriggle my way out of them and then I have to yell for help. Did I say dangerous? I meant embarrassing, profoundly embarrassing.

Any ideas about itchy cat ailments? Thanks,
George, the Blue Eyed Cat
Dear George,
I’d like to say thanks for writing but you’re a cat so we’ll skip the pleasantries, okay?
You’re allergic to something. You live in Florida, so my guess is you’re allergic to the whole state. You should probably live somewhere like, oh, Winnemucca, Nevada. If that’s not possible, and it probably isn’t, you’d best get used to the pajamas or they’ll do something worse like wrap you in an Ace Bandage. Your human might want to make tighter sleeves on those pajamas. Woof, Daisy Mae

I Love Ham


Dear Daisy Mae,
Our humans love dogs and now they’d like to get one, and we think that’s pretty scary. Why do you doggies try to scare us? Even you little doggies are bigger than we are.


Nibbles, Nutty, Buddy & Basil (Not wusses, just cautious Guinea Pigs)
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