A NOTE FROM MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY SELF

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's in bed with Truman Capote. Well, not Truman Capote, exactly, but a big fat book that tells all about his life. I swear, the old lady keeps scuffling around the house muttering to herself that she should have written her college thesis on Truman Capote instead of that bastard Henry James, but I have no idea what that means.

The only other thing I know about my mom is that she keeps saying "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. Dee Mill". When I asked her what that means, she said that her ovaries have to get their pictures taken tomorrow, so she's just making sure they know how to smile pretty. Again, I still don't get it, but I suppose it has something to do with the mood she's been in lately. I peed on the Christmas tree last night and she didn't even yell at me! She just walked into the kitchen and got THE STUFF and sprayed it on there and wiped it up without so much as a swear word sent my way. Must be her medication. Or maybe it's the big glass of Mommie Juice that she drinks every night after dinner. Either way, if it keeps her from going postal on my little heiny, I'm all for it.

I'm not exactly thrilled with the decorations around here, and I haven't found any presents stashed away yet, so I'm starting to get a little worried. I drafted my letter to Santa almost two months ago, and I even sent it FedEx this year so that he would make sure to bring me what I ASK for instead of what Mom thinks looks cute in the Target aisle. (Just for the record....I hate cute. I know I'm only nine pounds and all, but just because I'm a delicate little fellow doesn't mean that I wouldn't like to play like a boy for once. I've had just about enough of getting all tarted up and being paraded around the neighborhood like some kind of trained monkey.)

Anywhoose....busy day for me. I've been barking at a fat squirrel for the last hour, and since the sun is throwing a few good spots my way, I think I'll grab a snooze. If I can manage it, I think I'm going to convince Mom to make sloppy joes for dinner, since those are my favorite. I like them with yellow mustard and dill pickles. Don't know why.

So bear with us for a few days. Mom says not to worry about anything at all, other than the fact that her hoo ha hasn't seen the light of day in so long it might just see its shadow and decide not to come out again for six more weeks. (I might have gotten that screwed up with a movie we were watching last night, but you get the idea.)

The photo above is from a recent session that I had with Ms. Annie Liebovitz. I'm trying out looks for my jacket photo. Do you think this says "Hi, I'm Stewey, and I'm a successful writer? Won't you please read my book?"