“Yes, Missy?”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Oh, my! What’s up, girl?”

“Well… [yawn] I’ll make this [yawn]….”


“Oh. Oh. Oh my. I am exhausted, Marica. That run Daughter C took us on plumb wore me out.”


“‘Plumb.” P.L.U.M.B. Plumb.”


“I think it’s pronounced ‘plum,’ like the fruit, Missy.”

“Well, excuse me.”


“Once again, I will remind you, my Dear Friend, that you have a vocabulary of exactly one word.”


“No need to take offense, I’m simply reporting… .”

“Pardon me for interrupting, but did you have a question?”

“Indeed, I did. I wondered how Miss M was today.”

“Oh, she’s fine!”


“Okay, okay, Rocky. That’s just how folks talk. What I mean to say was that she was finer today than she was yesterday. And I’ll bet she’ll be even finer tomorrow.”

“Well that is good news! Do you think we might see her tomorrow? I would so love to give her a little slurp on the face to show her how much I love her.”


“Oh! Don’t do that! OMG!! And whatever you do, don’t even say such a thing in front of Daughter C. unless you want your mouths washed out with antibacterial soap. Didn’t you read about Semmelweis?”

“Oh my! You are not implying that our kisses are … dirty… are you?”


‘Trust me on this one, y’all. No kisses.”

“Ah my. That is awfully disappointing– and I can not believe it’s so– but if the experts believe dog kisses are laden with germs, who are we lowly dogs to disagree?”


“Missy? Rocky?’

“Yes, Ma’am?”


“Would you two like a little tiny sliver of a bite of a Loran Doone?”




“Shhhhhh. We have to keep this between just us. It’s one of the ‘percs’ of staying up past everyone’s bed time. No one knows who raided the cookie jar! So you have to keep quiet about the Lorna Doones. Understand?”

“Oh. My. God. These are so buttery.”


“Quiet now.”

“You have our … . WORD! Oh so sorry.”

“Shake it off girl.”


“Remember. Don’t tell about the cookies.”