Diary. Look at this.
I haven't diary-ed in a while... just, so sad. I went on a sock binge. The mini person moved his sock drawer, and the dumb human people have all his stuff in bins that slide out, with no lids. What do they think I am, a retriever?! A trainable and affable dog that isn't ruled by a small evil German brain?! Have they even met me? So, yes, of course, I got into said sock drawer and munched through them like Mother Person when see gets a whiff of tater tots. (Which she DOES NOT share. Who has the evil brain now, hmmmm?) But, yes, I threw up 6 socks one day, and 2 the next. The 2 even surprised me! There we were having our Daily Show cuddle and I felt a gurgle. Next thing you know, there are 2 dead socks on the couch. Mother Person was visibly disturbed. Soft Touch even gave a little yelp. Who knew I had 2 more in me?! Where do I store them!? It's a mystery. I am a marvel, that's all I can say.
I have stopped counting the amount of treats and cuddles I recieve. My therapist said I should concentrate on the positive. I think that was her way of saying, "These jerky treats are mine and I'm not sharing." That session definitely wasn't worth the co-pay. Misery continues.
Beans A. Wienerdog