Patti Soldavini

Dear Olive

Introducing a brand new advice column for dogs authored by Olive Pimento Soldavini.

Dear Olive: Why don’t biscuits come in flavors of birds and rodents? Albert, Princeton, New Jersey

Dear Albert: You are a genius. Have your person call my person and let’s talk. Olive

Dear Olive: Do you think it’s strange for me to have my nails painted? Frenchy, Paris, France

Dear Frenchy: Not at all. Will the hammer be the same color? Olive

Dear Olive: Why don’t humans sleep in crates? Penelope, Carson City, Nevada

Dear Penelope: Some of them actually do. Their crates are called jails. Olive

Dear Olive: What is the Puppy Bowl everyone’s talking about? Krystal, Fresno, California

Dear Krystal:  It’s very cruel. It’s where they set up puppies as pins at local bowling alleys. Olive

Dear Olive: Does Santa Dog really exist?  Jorgé, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

Dear Jorgé: Is that a rhetorical question? Olive

Dear Olive: What is the meaning of life? Socrates, Athens, Greece

Dear Socrates: Eating, licking and pooping. That’s it. Olive

Dear Olive: Why don’t we like cats? Felix, Patagonia, Argentina

Dear Felix: Because they don’t taste like chicken. And because they are so self-absorbed. Olive

Dear Olive: Am I really naked? Brody, New York, New York

Dear Brody: I don’t know. Send me a picture. And your phone number. Olive

Dear Olive: Today, I overheard my human tell her friend that I was “in heat.” What does that mean? And how can I be in it? Dolly, Anchorage, AK

Dear Dolly: You are now the most popular bitch in the neighborhood. It is a vicious cycle of popularity, unpopularity, popularity, unpopularity, and you are in the popularity phase, so enjoy it while you can. Olive

Dear Olive: I’ve never seen snow. What’s it like? Sparky, Clearwater, Florida

Dear Sparky: It’s like cold, wet sand falling from the sky…but light and soft. Olive

Dear Olive: I am obsessed with tearing apart and eating cardboard? Does this mean I need more fiber in my diet? Marcello, Milan, Italy


Dear Olive: I am in a new city, and a new home, and I just love the new kitchen table to chew on when I’m on my Mom’s lap, but she doesn’t like it. What should I do? Poppy, Jersey City, New Jersey

Dear Poppy: Make sure you say “Grace” first. Olive

Dear Olive: When I stare into my water bowl, is that me I’m seeing or God? Cleo, San Francisco, California

Dear Cleo. I don’t know. I’d have to look into your water bowl. Olive

Dear Olive: Why doesn’t my human circle her bed three times before laying down? Frosty, British Columbia

Dear Frosty: Good question. I know it seems counter-intuitive, but we have no idea why. It’s probably a genetic flaw. Olive

Dear Olive: I like to scoot my bottom along the carpeting in the living room but my human hates when I do this. What should I do? Gordy, Millburn, New Jersey

Dear Gordy: Scoot your bottom along the couch cushions once or twice. Then your human will be happy you choose the carpet instead. Olive

Dear Olive: When humans drive, aren’t they actually chasing cars? Franklin, Detroit, Michigan

Dear Franklin: You are very insightful for a common American Beagle. Yes, and when they are stuck in traffic or stopped at a light, they are actually sniffing the bumper of the car in front of them. Olive

Dear Olive: How can I get over my fear of water? Teeny, Oahu, Hawaii

Dear Teeny: Drink bourbon instead. Olive

Dear Olive: I am a French bulldog named Poppy – ooh la la. Although some people think I look like a bat-dog, I am really friendly and lovable. How can I get them to know the real me? Poppy, New York, NY

Dear Poppy: You little croissant. Try letting them nibble on your ears. But dip them in melted butter first. Olive

Dear Olive: Why is Mrs. P.I.B. so grumpy with me when I squeak my toys in her face? Wonderbutt, San Antonio, Texas

Dear Wonderbutt: Maybe you are squeezing the wrong toys. Try squeezing hers. Olive

Dear Olive: My bite is much worse than my bark, and frankly I don’t give a shit. Bruno, Little Rock, Arkansas

Dear Bruno: You are an uncouth little thug. Perhaps you should work out your aggression with the cast of “Jersey Shore.” Olive

Dear Olive: I think I’m going to the vet to get fixed. I didn’t know I was broken. What should I expect? Elmer, Nashville, Tennessee

Dear Elmer: Expect to spend the rest of your life licking where your balls used to be. Olive

Dear Olive: Why do cats use litter boxes and humans use those big white bowls? Mugsy, Scottsdale, Arizona

Dear Mugsy: Because they compartmentalize their lives much more than we do. Olive

Dear Olive: I hate the postman. He smells like a trout. He stinks up our porch. Missy, Beverly Hills, California

Dear Missy: Leave a giant bowl of milk out 5 minutes before he comes and sprinkle some catnip in it. Then run away very, very fast. Olive

Dear Olive: Do you think the name Pinocchio is a good name for a dog? Daffy, Orlando, Florida

Dear Daffy: Only if you are anatomically blessed. Olive

Dear Olive: I think the deer in the neighborhood stare at me. I’m scared. Max, Long Valley, New Jersey

Dear Max: If you think that’s scary, wait until your humans get the bill from your canine psychologist. Olive

Dear Olive: I came across a naked Barbie doll on someone’s lawn today. It was very upsetting. Should I call the Doll Police? Kelso, Hackettstown, New Jersey

Dear Kelso: I already called. There’s an APB out on Ken. He is considered a “doll of interest” by the police. Be careful. Olive

  1. Dear Olive – We love you as much as squeaky toys (but “no, I’m not sharing.” says the German) How do you stay grounded with all the adoration?
    The German

  2. Dear Olive,
    We must be the most tech saavy dogs around. It was so great to skype with you today.
    We should meet sometime…have your people call mine.


  3. Dear Olive,

    I am in a new city, and a new home, and I just love the new kitchen table to chew on when I’m on my Mom’s lap, but she doesn’t like it. What should I do?

    Poppy (Jersey City, NJ)

  4. LOVE this column!

  5. Dear Olive, You are so very wise, I think William Wegman should consult with you!

  6. Dear Olive,
    Why is Mrs. P.I.B. so grumpy with me when I squeak my toys in her face?


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