December 2, 1965
Dear Sonia:
When I was young I dreamt of surrounding my wife with marble halls, and luxuries to match. After 45 years I'm ready to settle for a white marble dog, which has by devious means taken up its abode with you. If the dog could speak he would tell you how Aunt Fannie was his erstwhile mistress; how she tenderly tended him, bathed him, scrubbed him; polished him, and did all but feed him.
Some years ago, thinking that life in the country would do him some good she loaned him out to uncle Gus. With the passing of Uncle Gus she looked forward to a reunion with her marble pet. She inquired of Zorland if he had seen the dog while in Bentleyville, but he hadn't. She was about to give up in despair, when she spied him in your home.
The years of separation had evidently dimmed the dog's memory and he showed no sign of recognition. But what can you expect from a mutt with a heart of stone - as hard as marble? Having a heart of flesh Aunt Fannie hasn't been able to get the dog out of her heart and mind. She goes to sleep with the dog, and wakes up with the dog. She talks dog, dreams dog, and has even taken to eating hot dogs for breakfast, dinner, and supper, for consolation. In brief, I'm having a dog's life hee at home.
I can see no relief in sight, unless I can persuade you to let my wife have her bitch back. After 45 years my wife is tired of having a real man around the house, and wants her marble dog -- the marble image of a real son of a bitch.
In the interest of domestic tranquility will you kindly oblige?
Affectionately yours,
Uncle Eli
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