A tragic case of…
It's obviously a case of mistaken identity.
But that is liable to happen when people allow dogs to write their letters to the editor.
The dog in question is Mr. Darcy. By his own admission he frequents the Edmonds summer market and if he encounters John Pierre the latter can probably expect a nip in the rear quarters.
Pierre is the Edmonds Beacon's Constant Curmudgeon. But Mr. Darcy has been misinformed by his self proclaimed "mommy" who claims that I deserve the curse of the curmudgeon because I don't like dogs.
Well, I'll admit I am not fond of dogs named after characters in Jane Austin novels.
If I encounter a dog with a respectable name like Jake, Duke or Bailey, I'm pretty sure they'll mind their manners in the market.
But Mr. Darcy is, according to his Mommy, a Giant Goldendoodle.
I looked him up on Google. Good lord, this isn't a dog, its a camel. If he is going to the market he should be pulling a wagon load of onions from Walla Walla.
How did I get this bad rap from Mr. Darcy?
Well, the mutt says his mommy read my column to him which will not enhance my credentials in the society of professional journalists.
That's not my worst fear. After talking things over with his mommy, Mr. Darcy concluded in his recent letter to the Beacon that I apparently just need "a big kiss from this Giant Goldendoodle" to brighten my day at the market. Yeah, right.
Mr. Darcy reports that he has been going to the Edmonds summer market for two years. He doesn't mention whether he or his mommy do any actual shopping or whether this is just their version of an Easter parade.
I suspect the latter. But I'm just a grumpy old curmudgeon.
Or is that John Pierre?