Where is Principal Ryder and why is she saying all these terrible things about me?

Okay, so maybe she isn’t. In fact, she doesn’t know me from Adam. Nor do I know her. At least, we’re not friends. Not in the least. But okay, I apologize in advance for saying anything that might have slighted her. Was not my intention. Still, I’ll be the first to say I don’t know what’s going on. I’m no longer with the in crowd, certainly not since I turned 12 and it became frowned upon for me hang out at the sandbox with the third graders. Sigh.

All I’m saying is that there’s an elementary school nearby and for some reason they want their principal back. She’s been missing for months and when I finally figured it out, my first reaction was, any chance Principal Ryder was kidnapped?

I searched online and found she’d abruptly left the school. Was she forced out? Is she buried alive at the beach somewhere? Could this be a case for Agatha Christie?

The options are endless, but there’s a bunch of kids standing on the corner crying their hearts out, right through all the graduations and promotions we’ve been enduring. They miss Principal Ryder. And, okay, it’s not really a bunch of kids. Just six. I mean three. Three kids, but one is their mom, so not sure she counts. Anyway, if you do see her, tell her that her parking space is waiting for her return. No questions asked.

In other news, it’s been fun watching the world return to some normalcy. People are going outside, sans masks. They’re hooting and hollering and acting all sorts of crazy. Okay so maybe they’re not. But I’m certainly enjoying myself. For starters, I’m living the high life. I’m going to my local health club and lifting weights and taking long walks with Oliver and Henry. Wait. I mean Oliver and Maggie May. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Sorry, Henry. Didn’t mean to use your name in vain.

So Maggie May is a great dog but I never forget that she was once a stray, so she barks at other dogs, people and boys on skateboards. Other than that, she’s a very loving dog. I mean when she’s not biting. Actually, she doesn’t bite. She just grabs you and shakes you like the Dickens. It’s funny, frustrating and cute.

Retired life is like living the life of Riley. I do whatever I want, when I want and I can wear my mask on demand. Seriously, when the police officer sees me and tells me to put it on, I acquiese. But other than that, I’m having fun living my “vida loca.” I can sleep in when I want, though I never do because I have to walk Maggie May bright and early. Emphasis on early.

There’s so much I have to say, but really, who has the time? Maybe when I run out of retired things to do, I’ll sit and chew the fat with you. Until then, it’s tah-tah for now!