Rudy Fredericks Murphy. 1996 - 2009.

Today’s cartoon is about my beloved Rudy.

I lost him on Tuesday, September 29th, just a few minutes past 5:00 PM. A day has not gone by that I haven’t cried my eyes out at least once. He was an extraordinary fellow and  the most superb companion.

The cartoon below, like all my non-political cartoons came pretty much intact from from my pathetic and feeble life. As they say, “you can’t make this shit up.” If you click on the “read more” link here, I’ve posted the cartoon – and a story about Rudy from a while back. Thanks for visiting! And leave a comment if you’d like. I would love that.

And happy, healthy holidays to you and those you love!

Click the link below to see the cartoon and read the story!

Clicking on the cartoon will enlarge it and open it in a window of it’s own!

The Story:

TUSHIE CORDON BLEU

We have two whippets. Rudy and Garcia.

Rudy is, as it should be with whippets, elegant, expressive, graceful, intelligent and a very gentle soul.
His nicknames are, “Beauty Boy,” and when I am in mushy mode… “BallerinaSwanDeerButterfly.”

Or, lastly, if I am listening to Brazilian music, a softly glamorous samba in particular, his nickname is, “‘He’ who is so beautiful, that your eyes will ache with the sweetest pain, as you gaze upon his magnificence.”

Sometimes I wonder if he should wear a sign with the same warning that is issued before a solar eclipse of the sun: Do not stare directly at him. His beauty is so great that it could cause irreparable damage to the eyes.

If Rudy were a person, he would be Fred Astaire.

Then, there is Garcia. His nicknames are…

Cannonball Murphy, Murphy being my husband’s last name, Offisa McMurphy, Tank Mc Murphy, Mule Train and Sluggo Brown, Brown being the last name of Old Pappy Brown, one of my husband’s many fantasy identities. Don’t ask.

If Garcia were a person, he would be Piggy, from Revenge of the Nerds, the one who wore the tee shirt with singed hole, beneath the words, “who farted?”

Anyway, Garcia, although he is six years old, still has to have his tushie wiped in the morning after his ride on the poopie train, because otherwise, his butt becomes a canine rubber stamp, inked with doody, busily stamping highly aromatic donut patterns all over my house from dawn till dusk.

When I clear the dinner table every night, I save the dirty napkins, for Garcia’s “morning clean-up.” This accomplishes two things. It saves a perfectly good piece of paper towel from being used in a frivolous and wasteful manner, Have I told you that my gravestone will read, “here lies one thrifty soul”? And, with the money saved on paper towels, I can now justify buying the more expensive and softer napkins (The Vanity Fair brand, ladies!) which can now do double duty, no pun intended.

Oh, and don’t forget to factor in the added savings gained by using the bright blue plastic bag the New York Times is delivered in every morning, which rises again to live a second life as a handy dandy, disposable and most important of all, free rubber glove, with which to hygienically perform Garcia’s morning toilette!

Last night, Rick made Chicken Cordon Bleu for dinner. So, this morning, as I dab Garcia’s tushie clean with last night’s dinner napkins, I wonder if technically speaking, it could be said that today Garcia has Tushie Cordon Bleu, and if so, maybe just for today, with his Tushie Cordon Bleu… if Garcia were a person, he too could be Fred Astaire!