Dear Governor Cuomo, Please do not ruin my Georgia quail hunting trip.
How many more sacrifices must I make this year?
Dear New York Governor Cuomo: Now that New York is free and clear of the virus, I ask that you not force me to cancel my quail hunting trip. Your quarantine interferes with what I believe is, in fact, “essential travel” for me. How do I explain the importance of escaping New York, decapitating quail, and sunning myself on that wide open beach under hot southern sun? I will also write a letter to Governor Kemp in Georgia because, it’s true, some of his behavior has probably contributed to my dilemma. Seriously, though, how many more sacrifices am I expected to make this year? Okay, I have not really made many or any sacrifices, but this is too much.
Most dogs are not as well-mannered, intelligent, or attractive as I am. Oh, wait until you see the latest pics of me swimming in the sailboat pond in Central Park. New post coming asap.
I go everywhere with my mom. I help her with OCD. And, yes, I know I’m not supposed to sit on the seat, but flight crew love me so much, they bring me extra pillows and can’t get enough of me. I’m told that I am cleaner and more pleasant than most human passengers. Now, Governor Cuomo is clipping my wings with his quarantine.
After quail hunting, I rest my knee on the beach and drink. Yes, virgin duh. 10 minutes after taking this picture, I joined a young couple (what’s a “honeymoon” ?) for lunch but they were not happy, so I found a group of kids and ‘helped’ with their sand castle project…
Uh oh. I swear to god, I was resting my knee every minute I wasn’t hunting. This is a staged photo. You can tell by how unusually good looking I am.
As long as I have a window seat in the first row in first class, I’m happy as a clam.
The only thing about airports I don’t appreciate is the pet relief stations. They’re too foul for me, so mom doesn’t let me drink anything before our flight. Just some ice cubes here in the sky lounge…