Dear Pet Lady,

Estaban solos en la casa. Era una fr�� oscura, y lluviosa noche.

La tormenta lleg�pidamente, y cada vez que tronaba, 鬠ve��que ella daba un salto. Ella atraves� habitaci� admir� fortaleza, y dese�e la abrazara, la reconfortara, la protegiera. . . . Entonces, se fu頬a luz. Ella grit�l fue hacia el sofᠤonde ella estaba acurrucada, y no le fue dificil cogerle los brazos.

Sab��que era una relaci�rohibida, y esperaba que ella le rechazara, pero no fue as��se sorprendi�ando ella no se resisti�le abraz�a tormenta era cada vez m᳠fuerte, as��omo su pasi�. . .

Era un error, sus familias no lo entender�� . . . cuando iban a consumar su pasi�no oyeron la puerta que se abr��. . . y la luz que volv��. . . ver foto adjunta.

Calle Limon, Granada, Espa�

DEAR LIMON,

Oh, the Pet Lady does love mysterious correspondence from our dear readers abroad. Her Spanish is more than a bit rusty, but in tandem with intense study of the photo also sent from Spain, she believes she may provide an adequate translation of this lurid tale. Herewith:

“So it was that they were alone in the house. It was a freezing, obscure, and pouring-down-rain-like-tears night.

“The tempest grew rapidly, and with a gift of a trombone, she wept a few salty tears. She traversed the room and admired his forcefulness and desired the embrace, the comfort, the protection. . . . Suddenly, he had fire in his eyes. She gritted her teeth. She sought the house of the sofa, where she might accrue some reclining, and it was not difficult to become by way of understanding his arms.

“So it was a prohibited relationship, and she hoped that he would rebuff her, but it was not this way, though she was taken aback when he was not resistant to the embrace. The tempest became very forceful, and it was like their passion. . . .

“Here was an error his family would not entertain . . . when they were consumed with their passion, they did not hear the door that was breached . . . and the eyes did behold . . . see adjuncted photo.”

The Pet Lady is quite linguistically exhausted now and must shortly have a martini, if not a pitcher thereof; our friends in Spain are given to melodramatics, aren’t they? The P.L. must credit their fiery temperaments. These pet friends, while appearing startled (perhaps by the flash of the camera?), look less amorous than just that—friends. Salud!

La Se� de los Animales Dom鳴icos

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