Harmony the Demon Dog and Grandma Gert offer heart-pounding help.
Dear Fake Life Coaches,
My neighbor’s Jack Russell, Muffin, keeps jumping our back fence. He’s crushed my wife’s flowers and my grass looks like a green and brown Dalmatian. Every time I confront his owner Trisha, she brings over homemade baked goods as an apology. Not just run-of-the-mill chocolate chip cookies, mind you. We’re talking seriously decadent stuff with fancy names I can’t pronounce. And her breads? Wow! Best ever!
The problem is, my wife has gone from mad to downright furious because we’ve both gained twenty pounds and Muffin is still jumping the fence. Worse, I find myself fantasizing about what Trisha will bake next. I’ve even snuck dog treats into the flowerbed. How do I get myself and our lives back under control before my wife goes off the deep end and murders Trisha?
Signed, Fat and Fearsome in Farmington
Yes. Yes, yes, yes, this is easy. Take down the fence and my bro Muffin will quit jumping. But totally switch out the dog treats for bacon.
Mr. Fat and Fearsome doesn’t want Muffin in his yard, Harmony. I’d suggest running hotwire across the top of the fence, with Trisha’s permission of course.
No, no, no. How’s my bro supposed to get the bacon?
He’s not, Harmony. If Trisha doesn’t like the hotwire, maybe try curved chicken wire at the top and a strip of cayenne pepper along the ground.
(gasp) How will Muffin smell the bacon?
Hush, Harmony. In terms of baked goods, there’s nothing wrong with fantasizing about, or eating, decadent treats.
Yes, yes, bacon.
Did I mention my pecan sandy pie took first place in the Lazy River Botanical Gardens Bake-off?
Nobody gives a crap about your pie, Grandma, unless it has bacon.
I add a smidge of cocoa powder and nutmeg to the heavy whipping cream and blend crushed pecans into the crust.
Nobody. Gives. A. Crap.
Anyhoo, back to your problem, dear. Quit putting treats in the flowerbed…
…and until you retrain Muffin to stay in his own yard, it sounds like you and the angry missus could use a little exercise. Have you tried base jumping? She’ll need a good support bra, but boy does it get the old ticker a’ pumping.
Tick this, Grandma. (snap, snap) Grrrrrrr.
Of course, she won’t need the bra if you two schedule in some extra-energetic bedroom cardio.
Grrrrrr, huh? Did you say bacon cardio?
Um, sure. What if you take Muffin on long hikes? You and the missus work off the extra pounds, Muffin gets tired, and Trisha brings over decadent treats out of gratitude instead of guilt.
Still not giving a crap. Wait, wait. What if they knock down the fence, fry up eight pounds of bacon, and feed it to me and my bro Muffin in between belly rubs?
You don’t live in Farmington, Harmony.
You don’t know.
Good luck, Mr. Fat and Fearsome. Harmony, if you’re ready to be a good boy, I’ll bring over a bite of my famous peanut butter bacon brittle.
Yes, yes, yes, wait. With extra bacon and belly rubs?