I have heard adults say if they are reincarnated they want to come back as Debi's dog. Well, that's all fine and dandy but the pickup is still mine. The Mommy bought it for me; I look wonderful in Atlantic Blue. It is my mobile doghouse. And it may take you a life or two to get all the hair out of it.
For all those people who refuse to ride with us because of my hair all over the truck, despite The Mommy spending hours vacuuming - just take yourself off in your sterile bubble. Easy to see you are not a dog person.
And yes, those are my nose and tongue prints on the windows, mirrors and dashboard. It's my truck.
Oh yeah, and that's my drool too.
People say I am spoiled. Maybe it's a reaction to the word "spoiled" that prompts children to announce they want to come live with The Mommy and me. I'll wait while those of you who know The Mommy well to stop laughing.
Actually you know, I can see The Mommy snapping a leash on a human child and taking him or her to obedience class.
Now as I think about it, really what is the difference between doggie daycare and childcare facilities? Both have playtime, snacks and [usually a chainlink] fence.
Today I got very angry with The Mommy. She got out the dreaded Dremel signaling it was time for my toenails to be trimmed. I tried to run. The doors were shut. I tried to hide. When The Mommy reached for one paw I whacked her with another. Or spun around in hopes of crawling away. I did my best "woe is me" expressions. Looking up at The Mommy I pleaded with big brown, sad eyes. None of this worked. It never does. We'd have a real fight on our hands if she even entertained the notion of clipping my nails.
Now I'm sprawled across the clean laundry, half asleep and wondering what kind of fit a human child would pitch if someone took a Dremel to his or her nails?