Dear Author-dude, Dog here.  I read your previous article on "Whither the Physical".   Not bad.  However, allow me to take time out from managing the local goose population up at the park for a minute to respond.

First of all, some never have had the dusty fond memories you talk about.  A vinyl LP?  What in the world do you speak of?  Are those the things in the back room you never take out anymore but which we can't get rid of?

Second, I will 'second' your comment on new books.  I love pulling down your copies of books and opening them before you do.  Some are great reads.  Others are better as chew toys.  By the way, the youngest dog is clever enough to chew on the part of the book facing away from you on the shelf, so you won't see the damage when she puts the book back.   Sometimes we don't give her enough credit.

Third, an adult observation here that I noticed while up  watching some late night television.  Does an e-cigarette count as something physical?  I was thinking we could put it in a category of 'false physical'.  It certainly isn't the same as smoking a cigar with your friend on the back deck after a long day at work, you on your computer, me with the local flora and fauna.   And then, I hate to bring it up, but love: is that physical anymore?  Seems to me all this computer stuff for, um, love...well, enough said there.  Us dogs, we could never properly check out someone new without using our nose you know.  And give me a good stranger's leg to hump in the living room so that I can embarrass you, I'll take that anyday over the computer stuff.

Lastly, it's this whole thing of how people do things now.  Look, I go out a lot, as far as you let me within the jail that is the fenced-in yard, that is.  I get exercise and I see the sun within your attempt at a miniature nature preserve, minus the nature.  My nose is to the ground learning about the world, nonetheless.  Learning about what that sneak squirrel is up to, or if padfoot rabbit's been out and about in the yard.  You humans...all the world's at your fingertips, sure, catalogued for you nicely in an amage.  So you stay inside.  Not only do you lose out on cataloging things differently from first-hand experience, but you get issues with eye strain, back pains, and lack of exercise.  You ought to be taking me out on walks more often to discover the world first-hand, so you can get gum stuck on the bottom of your shoe, or I can eat the gum you don't step on, as if anyone is outside enough to spit gum out on the sidewalk anymore.   Now THERE'S a lost physical pleasure.  The point is, you can catalog that in better writing from real-world experience.  I'll be happy to lend my witty tongue to the process.

Just a dog's take on things physical versus things made of bits and bytes.  You should have brought this up for the book, you know.   Dog signing off for now.  Work calls.

"You want skates?"  I repeated Dog's request back to him, not sure I had heard him right.  I would have cleaned out my ears for effect, but I had gloves on.
Dog, his dark brown miniature Dachshund frame shivering a bit in the cold, blew out cigar smoke as cool as a, well, cat, as we balanced ourselves on the deck.  It was covered in a sheet of ice due to last night's rain which froze as everyone slept.  "Sure do.  I want a pair of skates.  You can see why after finally coming out here and seeing what I have to put up with to just go to the bathroom.  See?  This deck is like a skating rink.  I need skates to traverse from the house to the ramp and stairs."
Shaking my head, "But how would you actually get down the ramp to the yard, then?"
Dog smiled, his teeth reflecting a garish orange glow from the ember at the end of his cigar.  "That would be the fun part.  With skates, I'd just slide down that ramp, land in the snow at the bottom.  You could take videos and post them on the internet."
I laughed. 
"What's so funny?"  Dog seemed a bit put off by my laughter.
"Sorry, I'm not mocking you, but the sight of you sliding down a ramp, cigar clenched in your teeth, on ice skates, with your long ears flying behind you...well, that WOULD be quite the sight! Even better if we found some goggles for you to wear."
Dog blew more cigar smoke out. "So you agree?  You'll get skates for me?"
Placing my cigar in my mouth, I put my hand out.  Dog grinned, the winter light sparkling in his dark eyes, and he spat in hisshook my hand.  "Remember, I need four skates."  We had a deal.

Read more adventures of Dog, the philosopher of life and daring swashbuckler, in Cigars with Dog - Conversations and Tall Tails.

    "So you've been successful shamelessly marketing your best friend, I gather."
    Looking at Dog, I rolled my eyes.  "Shamelessly marketing?  I simply put a few incidents down on paper, or the electronic equivalent of that."
    "A few incidents.  Yes.  And then took to the internet to promote it.  Putting my life on display."  Dog refused to look at me.  He puffed a little too vigorously on his cigar, and the smoke bloomed dark gray about his head in the approaching winter air.
    I gestured with my cigar in my right hand.  "Don't worry about it.  Everyone knows it's a work of fiction.  It's only based on you and your exploits."  I put my cigar back in my mouth.  The late afternoon air was definitely full of early winter, and the chill was compounded by Dog's attitude.  He didn't immediately respond, so after a couple minutes, I broke the ice.  "Would it make you feel better if the next story has you playing the part of some hero?"
    "Yes, that would be nice.  Something like the one story of you and your dog when you grew up, when he slayed a monster rat to save you.  Yes, that would do nicely. "  He nodded, looked at me, a smile breaking across his canine teeth which were stained a bit from the tobacco.  Nasty habit.  He added, "This way when you take me to the dog park, the other dogs might look at me and think something special, you know?"  
    Nodding, I agreed to his request.  "Consider it done.  All good?"
    He shrugged, but the smile on his face showed it was all good, and the evening came in on a lighter, slightly warmer note.

Read about more exploits of Dog in Cigars with Dog - Conversations and Tall Tails on Amazon.com

    "Whoa. Whoa.  WHOA!"  Dog was in a bit of panic, walking in a circle and threatening to wear out the carpet.  He looked up at me at the completion of each circle.
    "What's the matter, Dog?"  I paused in my task of moving the side table next to the couch.
    "Well, all these changes.  You sure we have to go through with this?"
    "Dog, it's Christmas!  We do this every year.  We have to move stuff around in order to make room for the tree and other decorations."  I shook my head.  Every year it was the same with him, concern that we moved furniture, that we changed his routine.
    Dog shook his head, as well.  "But you don't understand.  I have a well-planned route I patrol to check this house out.  I can do it with my eyes closed, because the furniture is where it always is, where it is supposed to be.  Except now.  And to compound the issue, all these decorations have new scents.  I can't tell when I should be alerted to an issue with the house or not."
    "You'll get used to it.  It's only for a couple of weeks."
    "Yeah, but you don't have to settle down the other dogs each day."  Dog looked at me, rolling his eyes.  "Every morning, they wake up, and get excited 'Hey hey hey!  There's a new smell in that room!  Let's go explore!'  Only, of course, we can't explore, because you lock us up like criminals in the kitchen behind that gate."
    "You've all survived in the past.  I'm sure you will in the future.  Now, if you let me finish, we can get to cigars on the deck sooner than later."  With that, he sat on his back haunches, concerned but quiet.