HERE YE! HERE YE! Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to my blog, Salty Thoughts.
As you may already know from reading My Story, I’m a Midwestern dog born and rescued and raised. And for the past six years, Ohio has been pretty good to me. Ohio is where I first learned how to play fetch and where I had my first mind-blowing taste of salty, crispy bacon. Ohio is also where I found my parents, or where they found me, depending on who you ask. Occasionally, when I’m feeling really adventurous, I road trip to exotic places like Missouri and Illinois. Solid Midwestern states where the land is flat, the horizons are clearly demarcated, and minimal energy is required to get from place to place. In the midwest, life is good and I was pretty content to keep it that way. Until a few months ago when my parents broke the news…
This summer we’re moving to BOSTON!
Boston. Beantown. The Cradle of Liberty. The City on a Hill. City of Champions… well, let’s not get carried away (Go Cards). But despite their lousy sports teams, I have to say I’m looking forward to the move. And not just because of all the colonial history, the fresh-off-the-boat seafood, or the Hahhhvard ladies (although they certainly help).
To be honest, I feel like Boston is where I belong.
Boston. The namesake of my breed. The home of my ancestors. The birthplace of my brethren. The only place where distinguished Boston Terriers like Rhett are adored as University mascots. Besides, think of all the new places to sniff and pee. The opportunities are endless.
When my parents told me about the move, I decided the first order of business was to look like a Bostonian. Sure I could’ve just picked up a new whale embroidered seersucker suit from Vineyard Vines, popped a few collars and put on some new specs from Warby Parker. Or I could’ve splurged on a few pairs of Sperry Top-siders, you know for all that boating I plan to do around town. #EastCoastCool
But when I say I want to look like a Bostonian, I mean old school style. Think Sam Adams, Ben Franklin, or the notorious Paul Revere. I want to embrace my inner patriot. To show homage to the Founding Fathers. Now, as you’ve probably already noticed, I look pretty good as is. So dressing the part of a New England patriot should be pretty straightforward. Or so I thought…
It all started with this ridiculous collar... Is this a shirt or a lobster bib? Or both?
Then came the highly esteemed colonial wig. Also highly overrated.
I think the Tricorn hat looks more distinguished. Here I am channeling my inner Ben Franklin, deep in thought.
And just like that, my colonial spirit quickly starts to go South...
And suddenly, this is the worst idea in the history of Boston.
On second thought, I may not be cut out for the colonial attire. But I’m still coming for you Boston. Hope you like the naked tuxedo look. I’ll be the one dressed like a true American Gentleman, roaming the mean cobblestone streets of Beacon Hill.
In the meantime, I’ll be working on my wicked good accent. See you soon, Massholes.