Friday, October 21st

Dear Diary,

Miserable things that happened since yesterday: 17
Treats given: 2. (2 LOUSY TREATS!!!!!!!)

I know my therapist tells me not to count all the ways I'm miserable, but when it rules most of my day, it's hard to look the other way. The Mini Person is still living here. It's been 19 months now and that guy is NOT getting that much more advanced. I don't know why they're keeping him. He keeps getting bigger. Taking up more snuggle room on the couch. And the bed!! WHY IS HE ALLOWED ON THE BED!!! I wasn't allowed until I was 4 when Mother Person finally caved from my constant whining and merfing. (It didn't warrant a bark, just a merf.) Or was it because she got a platform bed and I could jump in it? Bygones... All I know is that this is injustice.

The sun moved again. I was laying in it. Then I wasn't. WTF.

The crazy beagle across the hall is howling again. He really needs to work on his pitch. He shouldn't be doing this at all unless there's a valid reason for it: badgers in the hallway, edible socks strewn willy nilly in the hallway (so I eat socks, sue me) or nasty bacon robbers who again, would be in the hallway. I agree with him that evil lurks in our apartment building's hallway, but learn to contain yourself, Beagle. Mother Person believes that barking at the delivery guys is unnecessary. (Mother Person doesn't cook anymore since the Mini Person came along... Read: lazy.) I think she should realize the correlation between "no delivery men looting the apartment" and "my barking." But noooooooo. I'm wrong. Me. With my long velvet ears. Injustice.

Mini Person took his eye off the cheesy poofs. Delicious. Fill In Nanny Lady scolded me. Who do you think you are?!?!! I am Beans Aloysius Wienerdog!!! YOU do NOT scold ME. I will now eat her gum, a pen and take a tampon out of her purse and parade it around. Take that Fill In Nanny Lady!!!

I must rest. My paw are so sore from the typing.

Thank you, Diary. You're the only one who listens. Merf.