CHRONICLE II
November 24, 2005

Morgan and I hear lotsa stuff sitting in the back of the Explorer, riding around with our Masters --since we get to go just about everywhere. But sometimes I think they forget English is our second language. 

I may look laidback, but it’s only an act cause I worry a lot. Being a therapy dog makes it even worse since I can sense when something’s the matter--especially with my Master. Even Morgan, who is still a pup in adult fur, knows there’s a problem. It comes down to this: I figure Master is upset cause some of you human types can’t understand why a Fawski Feeder costs so many treats.

Enough with the long snout and droopy jowls when he returns from the dog shows. I’m rolln’ up my front feathers to pound out an explanation. 

The simple answer is: It’s the best there is. I double dog dare you to sniff out a better and prettier raised feeder anyplace. Master uses the best ingredients—like Corian for the top, which I understand is very expensive, and only the choicest hardwoods for the base that are fitted together with fine furniture joinery techniques. Fawski Feeders are made with pegs—not nails or screws that can come apart after some serious eatn’ and drinkn’. And don’t forget that each Fawski Feeder is individually crafted by Master alone and it takes more than half a feeding day to make one--that’s about five hours to you human types. Besides all that, with six coats of hand-rubbed urethane on the wood and a Corian top, a Fawski Feeder never wears out and looks great forever. I’ve used mine for about ten years and it looks brand new. And you can take it from Morgan and me; they sure do eat and drink good.

Do me a favor. Even though I tried to tell you everything you might want to know, if you have questions, don’t let on to Master that I was flapping my jowls. Send your questions to me. Many folks ask Master what a therapy dog does. Now you know. I fix long snouts and droopy jowls. Please remember those most special creatures in you life. There’s nothing like a Fawski Feeder for the holidays. Don’t they deserve the very best--even though they’ll never ask?