I Am The Dancing Queen....

This is our fearsome beast, Reagan and his lolling tongue. His specialties include polishing the kitchen floor until it gleams and licking postage stamps. He's also part of our impenetrable crack home security team. Everyone in our house has to work to earn their food and shelter and he's no exception.

It's my personal tradition to entertain Reagan and mortify my kids by dancing and singing just for him. After seeing my enormous posterior immortalized in a picture I have stepped up my dancing routine to burn calories.

Dancing for my dog is not a thankless job, he always gives me a reaction. Like pawing futively for an escape from his kennel. My favorite dance number is "Move Ya Body", by Nina Sky because it provokes him the most. When I really start jiggling, shaking my butt, and doing the funky chicken, poor Reagan actually claws at the windows and floors and whimpers. I guess I'm just cruel because it makes me laugh. Our special singing time together usually features "Silly Love Songs", by Paul McCartney. Reagan gets real nervous and shifty eyed when I warble this lovely tune, and his anguished cries and howls can be heard even outside of the house, (according to our neighbors).

My hopelessly hippy compassionate daughter, Sunbum, is concerned that I'm either going to make Reagan go blind or suicidal, and she's threatened to call PETA on me to report dog abuse. I guess the fault is mine for allowing a ten year old to listen to talk radio. When I remind her that if I can't dance for Reagan, I'll start dancing for her, she always backs down!