Hello Friends,
It's time to tell you the truth.
I'm an abused dog.
Oh sure, Mama and Papa bought me a house with a yard and moved out of their downtown trendy apartment, they bought me an SUV even though they don't want to look like boring suburbanites, I have three beds, I go to doggie day care, I get walked for at least an hour each day and there are people who come and visit and scoop my poop.
Yes, I have all of these things. But it doesn't mean that Mama and Papa aren't mean to me.
Mama and Papa treat me like a toy that's just there for their amusement.
They do!
Why don't you believe me?
Fine. I'll just have to prove it to you.
Things they do:
- They threaten to cut off my soft ears and make mittens
- They throw two tennis balls into the dining room at once so I don't know which one to chase and I slip and slide on the wooden floor trying to get one, and then the other, and then the other
- They ask me if I wanna go back to the Pound
- After it's snowed, they throw magic white balls for me which disappear when I catch them
- They ask me why I can't talk to them and be sophisticated like Brian from Family Guy
- They tell me my tongue is so big that they are going to dry it out and make a red carpet
- They talk about replacing me with a robotic dog that doesn't poop
- They tell me I have dog's breath. Of course I have dog's breath. I'm a dog.
- They wait till I am sound asleep in front of the TV, then make a loud noise with a squeaky toy so that I can't help but jump up and run around trying to find it
- They accuse me of being a coke addict when I come in from playing in the yard and I have snow on my nose
- They brush me then look at the brush and tell me they are going to form a replacement dog out of my shed hairs
- They laugh at my foo foo and tell me I have lipstick
I thought about writing a letter to the RSPCA, but I don't have opposable thumbs....
Lots of licks and woofs,
Puppy Dog