The Adventures of Bode and Remy Part Two

Aye matie!

        I am a wild one! Going crazy! Swabbin’ the decks and spyin’ out teh crow’s nest, boy.

What are you doing? Why are you talking like that? We are writing to our boy. Show some respect!

Argh! I’m a pirate now!

No, no. Just no. You are not a pirate. You are a brat. There’s a difference.

Argh! No brats on this ship! I got me skull and bones. Mostly bones. Wiff peanut butter inside.

I didn’t know pirates ate peanut butter.

Aye, that they do. Wiff teh bones.

Ok, this is ridiculous. You are not a pirate. Now let’s tell our boy what’s been going on. Dear boy, you will be happy to know that on watch last night, I cornered a squirrel –

Argh! That fookin’ skwerl! Almost had him, I did.

Yes, I was getting to that. So, I had him cornered. Er, well that is to say, I had him stuck in the tree –

Treenered!

That isn’t even a word, Remy.

No remy! you landlubber! Call me cap’n crunch!

I am not calling you Cap’n Crunch. You aren’t a pirate. Besides, that name has already been taken.

… captain cave man! Captain caaaaaaaaaaaaaave maaaaaaan!!!

        NO.

        Captain jean-luc picard?

        I am impressed you could say that, but no.

        Captain America? Captain fantastic? Captain marvel?

        No, no and no.

        Sir remalot, master of all he surveys and conquerer of all teh sweet lassies in teh green fields over yonder?

        Sir Remalot? I thought you were a pirate? That’s a knight’s name. As for the lassies, you better not be referring to Bella.

        Aye, mate. Tis true. We’re in lurve.

        You are not in love. She could not love you. I have been slowly wooing her for the past three years.

        Aye, if you call whimpering sadly at teh sound of her name with yer tail between yer legs “wooing”, then aye. She’s “wooed.”

        Quiet, you. She’s a work in progress.

        Aye, progressively working her way to me, that is.

        Will you hush? Look at this?! We’re supposed to be writing the boy, encouraging him to greatness. And instead you’ve wasted all the paper with this nonsense. We only have a bit left!

        Argh, me boy! Tis me , sir remalot, master of all he surveys and conquerer of wee bonnie lassies in teh green fields over teh rainbow by me pot o’ gold!

        Did you just go Irish? Sigh. Dear boy, we love you and miss you. Nothing has changed while you’ve been gone. We will be right here when you get back.

                                                    Many licks,

                                                        Bode

                                                  And sir remalot!

p.s. captain morgan! I coulda been captain morgan! Fergot that one.

        

The Adventures of Bode and Remy Part 1

I have so much to update... Where to begin? My son just joined the Navy. We dropped him off on January third. This Friday, he graduates boot camp. This is the first time that he and I have ever been apart more than 24 hours. It's definitely been an experience. He hasn't had a completely easy time there, so I spent hours trying to find ways to cheer him up writing letters and taking pictures, etc. My Chrissy and I were at a loss one day, thinking of funny things to send him. Chris said that he bet Kade really misses the dogs, because they sure miss him. And it struck me: I would write Kade as if the dogs were writing him. My son loved it. And this is how the Adventures of Bode and Remy began. (On a side note, I actually wrote more letters to my son from the dogs than I ended up writing as his mother.) We had joined a Navy Facebook group and I posted one of the letters in there. One of the other Navy fathers said, "This is hilarious. Hey, why don't you create a blog?" I told him I already had a blog... So, here I am posting the letters to my son from Bode and Remy. Without further ado, here is the first:



Hey Boy,



Where the hell are you? I’m bummed. Only person around here to play with is Remy LeBrat. That’s what I call him. He doesn’t like it. I don’t care. He hasn’t learned how to write a letter, and since I’m the smart one, you’re getting one from me.

I don’t know about all this. I’m not getting the quality of scratches that I normally get when you—Is that a raccoon? I think there’s a raccoon in the loft. Yeah, yep I’m pretty sure there is. Hang on, I’m going to need to whine about this for a good 45 minutes.

Ok I’m back. I gotta tell you, man, LeBrat is getting on my last damn nerve. He keeps trying to steal my blanket. I will shut that shit down! Haha, sorry, heard that on a show once. But seriously, this guy, he pooped in my spot yesterday. He follows me like a lost bro. It’s getting ridiculous.

I still have some gas issues, but I just blame it on LeBrat and everyone accepts that. Mom made us popcorn the other night. I very much enjoyed that. Dad washed our blankets. I had to work all night to stink it back again. Hang on – that little shit just stole my Woobie.

Back again, butt-bumped the hell out of him. He doesn’t care. I can’t wait for you to come back. It’s been like ten years already. I’m pretty sure I need a shot, but we need to find a new boy to hold my butt down. Listen, I got things to do, bitches to see, so I’m gonna make this short.

Dad put a picture of me and ole Brat-face in his letter. So enjoy.



Many licks,

Bode