I smiled today. I know, amazing. I can't believe it either. While shopping for gourmet cheeses on line, I got off the beaten path and ended up on YouTube. As one does. And I came across this GEM. Sweet Florida blueberries!! I could watch this all day. Silly humans. Thinking that all dogs were put on this Earth to catch things. Why would we do this? You're throwing MY stuff. And I should go catch it? The mini-person throws his dinner all over the floor. He doesn't say, "Go get it!! Go get it!! Catch it! Come on! Good Mama!" No. No is doesn't. And if he did, boy howdy there would be hell to pay. So why is it ok for dogs?!?!? Injustice.
I do feel for this little pup. Being that I can read "dog," I'll let you in on what this dog was thinking. "Oh lordy, I have to catch this? Ugh. Fine. Ok, I'll trrryyyy.... and! I fell over. I think I'll just stay here for a minute to see if they feel bad... NOPE! Not feeling bad. Laughing. Swell."
He's doomed to a life of learning how to catch and being haunted by the laughs of the humans as his fuzzy non-weeble body falls to the ground time and time again. Me? I just watch the stuff the humans toss go right past me. And then look at them with my best, "You disgust me," look. And I saunter off. (Perhaps a spite poo is in order?)
I haven't said misery once in this entry! What's happening to me? Misery. Oh phew. There it is.
There is a news story today about a dog that ate 111 pennies.
He's alive. Injustice. Huzzah another dumb terrier wondering around eating change who MAKES THE NEWS. I do amazing things ALL THE TIME and where is my press??? Why does Victoria Secret not sponsor me? I keep them in business for goodness sakes. Mother Person has a VS gold card thanks to me and my "habit." What do I get out of it? Nothing. Misery.
But alas, Penny Pooch, here are some tips. Eat things that don't kill you. (Other than grapes and chocolate, they're delicious and totally worth it.) Pennies?!? Ugh. They are much too tart and the aftertaste is off putting. Now, you know what tastes good? 20 dolla bills, y'all. Hundreds are gourmet divinity, if you can get your muzzle on them. Sure, it causes some commotion from the people. But usually in the, "Where did I put that!!?!!?" rather than, "YOU ARE A TERRIBLE DOG!" So that's a win-win in my book. If I can cough it up whole, let it dry out and then "find" it for her, I sometimes get a treat. And THAT my friend, is how a pro does this. So lay off the pennies. They're heavy. They're not even going to be currency much longer. They're not even that shiny. It's stupid. And most importantly, it's NOT NEWS WORTHY. I certainly hope the AP just calms down for a hot second and recognizes how cute and adorable I am.
I mean, can you stand it? The wisdom behind those eyes. Blinding.
Till later, Diary. The misery, I'm sure, will continue.
This is so metaphorical for my life. I try to find some warmth and comfort on this cold ball of mud called Earth. I find something fuzzy, fluffy even. I snuggle in, feeling the safety of the organic cotton swaddling my sinewy body. AND BOOM!! I'm in an arm hole. What is that?!!? Who does that?!?! Oh, people with arms. Sure. Sure, rub it in that I and the mighty T-Rex share the same leg to body length ratio issues. I see the memes. I know I'm the butt of jokes. That's on-line hazing people. Injustice.
Things haven't changed much. Same ol' same ol'. Sleep. Snuggle. Throw up a pile of thread from left over socks stuck in the gullet. Read the NY Times Real Estate section. Sniff. Repeat. The mini-person is "potty training" now. Mother Person and Soft Touch think he's just "soooo clever." Not for nothing, but I was paper trained in a weekend. When I was 12 weeks old. Why the arrested development with this one?!?! (Now I have the song "Tennessee" in my head, and a penchant to upgrade my Netflix account...) I mean, sure, I happy wee sometimes. I spite poo more than I wish I had to. I rarely spite wee anymore. (Results aren't as satisfying.) The mini thing is more than happy to point out my spite poos and run around the apartment all pell mell about "bad wiener dog! bad wiener dog!!" AM I THE BAD ONE?!?! Or is that horrendous mother of mine who only gave me 27 seconds of snuggles and love when she came home?? Injustice!!! I deserve 45 on the SHORT end. Truly it should be more like 5 minutes, unless you bore me then it's fine if I leave. You deny me snuggles, you get a deuce in the middle of the bathmat. That's how this goes. Get used to it. Misery.
I have to go source a decent blanket. And I better get a handful of treats tonight, or bathmats beware.