I HATE CRUNCH FACE!!! I know, it’s Christmas, I shouldn’t hate anyone, or, anything, but I just can’t help it! How long have I been doing time in this house? What, at least four years? How many times have I went with mom and dad on Christmas Eve? I’ll tell you how many, zero, bubkus, the big goose egg, nada, less than one, anyway, you get my point, never! Along comes this crate pooping, bug eyed, tail pulling, man part nipping plague, who’s been here less than three months, and off to grandma’s house she goes! Meanwhile, I was stuck here with the Furball! The Furball, by the way, must have heard the hippie talking about Santa Claus, because that’s all he could talk about last night while everyone else was gone! At first, I thought Crunch Face pooped just one too many times on the floor when mom and dad took her with them. Maybe she was going to the proverbial family farm! Oh no, according to Crunch Face, she went to see dad’s side of the family and mom’s side! She even saw Bad Grams, who said Crunch Face could come to her house today for dinner! Now get this, she said Crunch Face could come on one condition, I can hardly type this I’m shuddering so bad, mom would have to clip Bad Grams toe nails! What? There wasn’t any sewers needing unclogged? No lepers needing bathed? I can’t believe mom agreed to this! Anyway, if Crunch Face does get to go to Bad Gram’s for dinner, and I get stuck here with Furball again, I’m going to poop like I’ve never pooped before, right on the dining room floor!

On the first day of Christmas, my master brought to me, a pug to torment me!

On the second day of Christmas, my master brought to me, two tail tugs!

On the third day of Christmas, my master brought to me, three rabbit pens!

On the fourth day of Christmas, my master brought to me, four bunny turds!

On the fifth day of Christmas, my master brought to me, five PIT BULL BEATINGS!

On the sixth day of Christmas, my master brought to me, six vets a spaying!

On the seventh day of Christmas, my master brought to me, seven nail trimmings!

On the eighth day of Christmas, my master brought to me, eight crates with poopings!

On the ninth day of Christmas, my master brought to me, nine yippy lap dancers!

On the tenth day of Christmas, my master brought to me, ten Furballs weeping!

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my master brought to me, eleven hippies piping!

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my master brought to me, twelve Grammies grumbling!

That’s twelve Grammies grumbling, eleven hippies piping, ten furballs weeping, nine yippy lap dancers, eight crates with poopings, seven nail trimmings, six vets a spaying, five PIT BULL BEATINGS, four bunny turds, three rabbit pens, two tail tugs, and a Pug to torment me!

Merry Christmas everybody!

It’s been a while since I last blogged, I just can’t seem to get motivated to write these days! Things don’t seem to be getting better with Crunch Face, although, she’s lost a little of her luster with mom and dad. It’s funny how pooping where, or, when you’re not supposed to poop can make you a little less cute! Kind of like getting a date with that special someone you’ve been working so hard to impress, only to have them poop in your car on the way to dinner! Yeah, it gives you something to talk about, but it’s not really something you would want to build a long term relationship on! Mom really crossed the line the other day, she found my pink sparkly collar, the one I was saving for a big date with the Pit Bull, and gave it to the little poop tramp! She was parading all around, wearing nothing but the collar and a coy smile. Furball was all; “that collar really brings out your eyes!” Brings out her eyes, really? If her eyes were any more out, they’d be on the floor! We don’t believe in reincarnation in this house, but I’m telling you one thing, Marty Feldman had nothing on Crunch Face! When she first came to this house, every time she looked at me, I thought someone was sneaking up behind me with an axe! The hippie girl had me worried the other night, I really thought I was a goner, she was actually being nice to me. I was thinking; “yeah Moon Beam, I’m on to you sister, nice to me one second, on the way to the “family farm” the next!” Christmas is quickly approaching, overall, I think I’ve had a pretty good year. I’ve often heard dad say he’s never had a dog like me before, that’s gotta count for something! Needless, to say, the hippie girl’s friend, Santa, better come through with some bling to replace my collar, a hit man for Crunch Face and Furball would be nice too!

They say politics makes strange bed fellows! In my case, an annoying, uncouth, tail munching, food gobbling, bug eyed, man part nipping, pest, has created an alliance I never thought possible! The Furball and I have been forced to work with each other in order to have some bit of sanity here at the pet sanctuary! The Furball chases Crunch Face, while I give her a good growling and some well deserved looks of disgust. Speaking of disgust, you should see this petulance eat! Or, should I say inhale her food! There is no way she is tasting a thing! I believe you could put a bowl of rocks in front of the wrinkle faced freak, and she would have them in her stomach before she knew she’d be pooping cement later! The Furball and I have been forced to eat at a frantic pace in order to prevent mallet mug from eating our food! Oh sure, it sounds funny, however, imagine if every morning for breakfast you were in Nathan’s Hotdog eating contest! The only thing missing is some bimbo standing behind us holding up a card indicating how much kibble we’ve ate! I’ve just about quit caring about my tail. Every time I turn around, my tail is being ravaged! It’s not too bad, until the thug pug gets to the meat of the tail! Then it really smarts! Mom took us all to see some old guy in a red suit, with a white flowing beard. Apparently, according to the hippie, this guy is called Santa Claus. The hippie told us if you tell ole Santa what you want, he’ll break into your house and leave the item you requested under a tree mom and dad put in the living room. The hippie also said after you tell Santa what you want, he has to go have his elves build it for you before he can bring it to your house. Poor, poor hippie! I think it’s time for an intervention! She must have got into some of Bad Grams’ private stash! Anyway, just to cover my bases, I told Santa I’d like a certain wrinkled, crunch faced creature to disappear! I hope he knows I wasn’talking about Barbara Walters!

Thanksgiving has come and gone, Black Friday is just a memory! Here I sit with yet more disappointment! On Thanksgiving, Bad Grams came over for dinner. Now I know her and I have not always seen eye to eye, but what the heck, it was a holiday, why not extend an olive branch! When Bad Grams took a seat on the couch, I promptly jumped up in her lap for a little together time. The first words out of Bad Grams mouth were “get down Princess, I don’t like you!” I thought, if you don’t like me, wait until you get a look at old Crunch Face. As soon as Bad Grams saw the little accordion face, she started fawning all over her, saying; “ I just love her and Remi Bear” (AKA Furball)! Okay, I saw how this was going right away! Was she still mad about me turning her into Crime Stoppers? I was positive they would find a meth lab at her house! How did I know they would go through her unmentionables? Excuse me, just thinking of those unmentionables gave me a shiver! So Turkey day was over and mom was planning a big shopping trip with her favorite girl! I had my list and itinerary all mapped out! I figured we’d start at Petco for a free breakfast, afterward, we could stand in line over at the PetsMart to get my favorite bunnies some high quality food. This is kind of a self serving gift! You know the old adage, garbage in, garbage out! I thought I would go with delicious in, delicious out! After a long day of shopping, mom and I would go to Four Muddy Paws, my favorite boutique, for a mani/pedi! Mom said we were leaving really early in the morning, so we should all go to bed early! I was thinking, in your face, Moon Beam, tomorrow, you will not be sliding into the car in front of me! Just in case, while everyone else was asleep, I did a little psychological warfare with sledgehammer face. I convinced her she should leave a little “surprise” inside her crate, I figured this would distract the little flower picker, while mom and I slipped away. My plan backfired, I forgot the hippie doesn’t do dog poop. Apparently, hippies don’t mind rolling around in the mud, they just have an aversion to dog poop! I felt kind of bad for mom, having to clean the crate out before leaving for the trip, but hey, clean some crap, then out the door we go! The next thing you know, mom and Woodstock Wilma, were walking out the door without me! I thought, oh, that’s okay, you kids go ahead without me, I’ll just stay here at Dr. Doolittle’s place with a neurotic sack of fur and a psychotic serial tail biter! Revenge will be mine! I will not forget Bad Grams, or, the little hippie girl messing up my holiday!

I had a better day today, I went to the beauty shop for a little me time. I was trimmed and pampered, I must say, I am rather stunning! When I came home, dad picked me up and took a big ole wiff of me! He commented how nice it was to smell me when I didn’t reek of rabbit poop. He calls it rabbit poop, I call it my escape from reality! Speaking of reality, Crunch Face is still causing me all kinds of distress! I wasn’t home ten minutes and the sawed off runt was working my tail like it was cotton candy! I don't for the life of me know what she finds so interesting about my tail! The Furball has developed this habit of barking his fool head off every time Crunch Face gets near him. I think it’s a tactic he learned at a self defense class, either that, or, he’s just trying to distract Pistol Pete from his frank and beans. Oops, sorry Furball, didn’t mean to bring up more bad memories, it’s just frank, no beans! I don’t know what was up with the little hippie girl today, when she first came home from school, she commented on how cute I looked and was actually loving on me. Afterward, she commented about how cute her friend Sydney’s dog, Tucker was. Dad said Tucker wasn’t as cute as his little Princey girl! You go dad, put the little Woodstock freak in her place! Moonbeam then commented she’d trade Princess for Tucker. Really, oh, okay, I’ll just get my lambie and few of my favorite things and you can work out the details! I wonder how the hippie would like it if dad traded her? Of course, those hippies go for the whole trade and barter system since half of them don’t have jobs! Gotta run!

Well, dad was out of town “deer hunting” for the last week, which hasn’t allowed me to blog. Dad took the laptop with him, why, what were you thinking? Anyway, my life is still miserable! This new puppy is so hyped up! I’m thinking she got into some meth residue left behind by Bad Grams! This little menace is infatuated with my tail and the Furball’s wango tango! Every time I turn around, the little wrinkle faced speed freak has my tail in her mouth! My tail looks like Courtney Love’s hair after an all night bender! The Furball is having a hard time learning to walk with his legs crossed. I feel so embarrassed for the galoot, he’s getting pushed around by a dog who is five times smaller. Me, on the other hand, I’m looking for a good hit man! Maybe the Pit bull could come over and do my light work for me. Although, I’m starting to think the Pit Bull is moving on with his life. He’s not been returning my calls lately, I think I may have to send him some more risqué pictures to peek his interest. Thanksgiving is coming up this Thursday, supposedly, Bad Grams is invited. Little did I know she was royalty, but I distinctly heard mom tell dad she was bringing her own special throne! Who knew? If life doesn’t start getting better around here, I’m blowing this three dog town! I don’t know how much more I can take? To make matters worse, I haven’t been able to find the little hippies stash, you know, just to take the edge off a little. Well I better go, I see part of what was my tail drifting across the floor.

All I can say is, what in the world has happened to my life! This past Saturday, dad and the boy they call Wyatt, left the house, when they returned, they brought home the most obnoxious creature I have ever met, no, not the little hippie girl! This little creature looks like someone hit her in the face with a sledgehammer! To make matters worse, she has a fetish for my tail, I’m now having to walk and sit with my tail between my legs. If not, she’s biting on my tail and pulling me like I’m some sort of a pull toy! At first, I thought she was just going to visit, then leave, however, the longer she’s here, the more I think I may be stuck with her! Dad just laughs every time she pulls my tail, he thinks it’s the funniest thing he's ever seen. Yeah dad, let me bite you in the butt and lets see how your sense of humor is afterwards. One benefit, the little tail biter seems to have a thing for snipping at the furball’s manhood! I haven’t seen bucking like that since bad Grams ate spoiled sushi! So what was it dad? Pooping on the dining room floor? My body odor? Waking you up early on Saturday mornings? My bunny poop addiction? I know I can be difficult at times, but you had to bring a newer model in to replace your little princey girl? I’m thinking if calling Immigration, I heard dad tell mom, the gremlin didn’t come with papers. Great, not only am I being replaced, I’m being replaced by an illegal alien! How am I supposed to compete with an illegal? The little hippie girl is so happy about the serial tail biting pipsqueak, the first words out of her mouth when she saw her was “does this mean we can have Princess killed?” Princess killed? What is she, British royalty? Mom’s all goo goo eyed over the new arrival as well! I mean really, if I didn’t poop on the floor, smell like dead snails, have a tendency to wake mom and dad up on weekends, and eat rabbit poop like it was kettle corn, I’d be the perfect pet! I wonder if I could get a discount for multiple beatings from the Pit Bull? Stay tuned, I will not go down without a fight!

What a week, it all started after I went to the vet. Apparently, one of the shots I received was something called steroids. I’m not actually sure what steroids are used for, but I’ve been having the urge to slap the Furball from here to next week! I know, I usually feel like giving him a good thrashing, but now, I feel as if I could just pick him up and throw him through a wall! Also, my appetite is insatiable! Not only am I wolfing down my food, I’m going after Furball’s as well. After both of our food is gone, I go outside and eat poop! I’m so ashamed! I now know what Barbara Walters must feel like after one of her shows! The Furball informed me the steroids also ruined any chance I ever had at winning the Westminster! I can’t believe mom and dad would allow such a thing to happen to me without even consulting me! It wasn’t like I was out with the little hippie girl and got some second hand smoke! I mean you have to have a certain level of trust amongst family! You’re not going to believe what happened in the middle of the week! Bad grams fell and broke her hip! This happened to a friend of mine before I was “rescued” by mom the rescuer! The cure was a one way trip to Doggone City! When I first heard about Grams, I was kind of sad, but, you break a hip and as dad likes to say, you’re totaled! Poor ole Grams, I hardly got to know you, oh well, life’s not always fair! Speaking of not fair, Grams wasn’t totaled at all! In fact, she received a brand new hip! A new hip? Who knew there was such a thing! I guess that’s fair, my friend breaks her hip and takes a dirt nap, Grammy breaks hers and gets a new one! To make matter worse, mom took me to the beauty parlor this week! When I got to the beauty shop, there was this other dog walking around with a pumpkin drawn on one side and a smiley face on the other! I was thinking, are we at the beauty shop, or, the head shop? Hey mom, you’ve got your little Princess, not your hippie girl! After the haircut, I look like my head is too small for my body! Kind of like Barry Bonds, only in reverse! My ears are about one quarter their natural length, I look like Sally Fields from the Flying Nun! When I jut my teeth out, I look like Nicole Richey, only not as homely! The beautician told mom I got the “puppy cut.” The puppy cut? How about, I’ve been on a three day jag and shouldn’t have a pair of scissors in my hand cut! Or, I ate a brownie from the little hippie girl, now I’m floating in the air with these scissors, sorry about your hair, cut! A puppy cut? I have lost all street cred! I could just see the Pit Bull coming over here and getting a glimpse of me! I’d say, come on in, I just need to change clothes, he’d take off running, thinking he was going to be on “To Catch a Predator!” Dad can’t stop laughing at me when he looks at me, the hippie says I’m ugly! Mom says I had to be cut this way to get the mats out of my beard and ears. Those weren’t mats, they were dreads, ala Bob Marley. So now, I’m a short eared, small headed, new hipped Grammy, Nicole Richey looking, steroid enraged mess! How was your week?

Wow, do I feel good! I don’t know what that old guy gave me, but I feel great! I actually have a little fur growing back on my underbelly! Now, instead of it looking like Dog the Bounty Hunter’s chest, it looks more like Jimmy Johnson’s head. Talk about a nice head of hair, if it wasn’t for the whole inter species dating taboo, I could really go for ole Jimmy! Anyway, I digress, the Furball is really starting to get on my last nerve! He still gets to sleep upstairs with either Wyatt or the little hippie girl they call Summer. Of course, I don’t know if I could handle sleeping in the same room as the hippie, what with the whole “let’s shoot Princess” remarks. I’d have to sleep with one eye open, or, just stay awake all night. Anyway, the Furball continues with the sticking his tongue out at me as he’s being carried upstairs by dad! Then, when he comes back downstairs in the morning, he’s all, Wyatt did this, Wyatt did that, Summer did this, Summer didn’t kill me in my sleep! I sure am glad I got the Benedryl monkey off my back! I still can’t believe I thought I was dead! It does make a girl stop and think! What in the world would mom and dad do without me? I’ve often heard dad say “what would it be like not to have Princess anymore?” Poor guy was so distraught when he was asking this question, he just had this far away look and a brave grin on his face. Mom said something like, we could get two more dogs, if we had to replace Princess. Sure does make a girl feel good knowing she’s wanted!

What a weekend, and for that matter, a start of the week! First of all, I’ve been under constant attack from the little hippie girl! She went across the street to do something called “baby sit,” Saturday night. Apparently, there’s a dog across the street named “Buster,” whom the little hippie is enamored with. All I heard all day Sunday was; Buster did this, Buster did that, Buster smells like vanilla, Buster doesn’t stink like stale Fritos, lets shoot Princess! Lets shoot Princess? Okay, I admit, I’m not the easiest dog in the neighborhood to live with, but, for a beatnik like the hippie to resort to violence, is just a tad over the top! Who cares if “Buster” smells like vanilla! What, is this the hippie’s favorite incense fragrance? Besides, the last I checked, hippies were putting flowers into the end of gun barrels, lighten up Moon Beam, I mean Summer! As if all of this wasn’t enough to make me go all Naomi Campbell, this morning, I thought I died! No, really, I thought I died! It all started when I got grabbed up by mom and dad and rushed into the car! Dad appeared to be half asleep and mom was saying something like we only had an hour to get her to the vet! I was thinking, I’m a goner! I only had an hour to live! I thought maybe the hippie girl slipped me something, maybe some vanilla arsenic! On the other hand, I had been itching and smelling a lot, dad had been saying I smelled like I was rotting from the inside out! Maybe he was right! Anyway, a girl has all kinds of crazy thoughts when the end is near! If only I had paid more attention during Bible study, heck, if only I hadn’t pooped in front of the Bible study kids! I won’t even revisit what the furball did to me in front of the Bible study kids! Although, the kids did have a lot more questions about what was going on inside that Ark afterwards! I was swept up so fast, I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to the furball! So anyway, one hour to live, and guess who grabbed the wrong directions to the vet, you guessed it, dad! Mom gave him a good admonishing and sent him back into the house to get the directions! It’s okay dad, I have an hour left to live, and you forgot the directions, don’t sweat it, take your time! After about five minutes, mom went in for dad, I guess dad forgot his reading glasses and couldn’t find the right paper! Oh well, it’s been a good life, the heck with that, get your blind, non reading small print self out here and do some of that high speed evasive driving I’m always hearing you brag about! Okay, we were all back in the car, and away we go! Burn rubber! I thought dad would be driving at least a 100 miles per hour to get his little Princey girl to the vet, oh no, he’s like Mr. ten and two on the steering wheel, right at the speed limit! So this is how it’s going to be, I knew all of that pooping on the floor would come back to bite me, so to speak. Well on the way, mom blurts out, it’s been longer than an hour, we’re too late! Goodbye cruel world, I was way too young and pretty to die, but, hey, so was Anna Nicole! Why must it always be the pretty ones to go so young? This is where It really got strange, it didn’t seem like there was much difference in being dead than alive! Mom and dad were still with me, did I take them out with me on the way? I was trying to recall some of the Bible study stuff from the kids, but I was coming up empty! I did recall one of the lessons, where the kids were asked to describe what they thought God looked like. One of the kids said they thought he would have gray hair and be very kind and loving! One of the other kids said they thought he would look like a Power Ranger, but the kid was eating crayons, so I went with the kindly older gentleman theory. Well we get to the afterlife, what’s this? I still had to poop, but this time I was pooping in some real nice landscaping, looked like heaven to me, crazy thing though, mom still had me on a leash and dad’s leading the way inside. Okay, Heaven has it’s drawbacks, but , did I mention how nice the landscaping was? Once we get inside, I discovered the kid was right, there he was, the kindest, gray haired gentleman you ever wanted to see! Dad walked me over to him, I started thinking, please be in a good mood and let me pass through,! Well the next thing you know, the gray haired gentleman picks me up and says “is she a good girl?” Okay, this was dad‘s time to shine, start boasting about your Princey girl! Mom interrupts, always trying to pad her hand, with the whole “she was a rescue” thing again! Then the guy started poking and prodding, pulling hair out of my ears, and gave me two shots! They were right, they just don’t let anyone in here! Well the next thing you know, the guy gave dad his business card and said if she doesn’t get better in two weeks, I want to see her again. Let’s see, I’m dead! Getting better is going to be a little tough! Well, turns out, silly me, I wasn’t dead at all! Just a little delirious from all the Benedryl mom had been pumping down my throat! I guess it’s never too late to start anew!

I don’t know what’s going on with me, but I stink more and more each day! I have lost so much hair on my underbelly, it looks like Dog the Bounty Hunter’s chest. Mom keeps telling me to hang on until Monday, I guess I’m going to see the doctor. I feel skankier than Paris Hilton's new BFF. Enough about me, as if anyone could ever get enough of me, I was watching TV with dad the other night, when the craziest show ever, came on! It was called “S*&# My Dad Says.” Really? We've reduced ourselves to this? What’s next? Poops on my butt, Gunk in my ear, The Bunnies Peed on my Head, My underbelly is red and itchy? Oh wait, I wasn’t going to talk about me anymore. The show was about as entertaining as watching the furball sing the National Anthem for a treat! Get away you hillbilly, man, I just typed the word treat, and he was on me like Whoopi on a chicken wing! Supposedly, the show was started by some guy who was tweeting S*&# his dad said. Well, if they can put some hotel room salesman to work on a show with this concept, I’m smelling a new show in my future! How about Shitzu CSI, or, Paw and Order! I could play myself, they need someone with spunk on TV these days! They’d have to find someone free spirited to play the little hippie girl! A real looker to play mom! I wonder if that Harry Potter actor is out of work yet? He could play the boy they call Wyatt. We could make it an action thriller and have Keenu Reeves play dad! Of course, we’d have to find someone, or, some thing, to play the furball. I wonder if that Alf character is still in the business? If I don’t get this itching under control soon, we may have to call the show; The Young and the Itchy, or, how about the Mold and the Beautiful! Gotta run, mom’s coming at me with another syringe full of happy juice!

I have had just about all I can take from the little hippie girl they call Summer! Last night, she tells mom; “we should make Princess an outdoor dog, she stinks1” Well, just give me a few minutes while I gather a few of my favorite things, and I’ll be letting myself out! I think not! Let’s see here, you’re the hippie, and you want me to be an outdoor dog? Correct me if I’m wrong, isn’t it your ilk who loves sleeping outdoors? Does Woodstock ring a bell? Just because you might like frolicking in the mud and grass, doesn’t mean I would! I know you think everything is “groovy man", but for me, I think I will continue to live right here indoors! Why doesn’t the little hippie go live in a Volkswagen van? As if her wanting me to go live outside wasn’t bad enough, I think the little tree hugger slipped something in my water bowl! I was tripping big time, I started seeing selective double! One of her friends came over last night, as soon as she arrived, I started seeing double of just the friend all night! It was weird, one vision was wearing one outfit and the other a different one! The little hippie knew what she had done and was messing with my mind! One time she would call the vision one name, such as Sierra, and then the next minute she would be calling the other vision Michaela! This was almost enough to make me swear off magical rabbit pellets! One of the “friends” who I was seeing double of, kept complaining I smelled like Fritos! I think mom and I may have to have an intervention with the hippie, just to set her straight as to who’s the one working her way outside! Outdoor dog? I think not! Outdoor hippie? Sounds more natural to me.

Those little lap dancers were prancing by my yard again today. You would think they were a pure breed, such as myself, the way they strut past here! Oh sure, the furball gets all goo goo eyed when they walk by, but hey, his family tree hasn’t forked in years! Just the thought of him reproducing gives me the shivers! I’m starting to give up hope on the pit bull ever coming over here and defending my honor by stomping the furball back to the stone age! Mom’s freaking out about my hair do. She had the boy they call Wyatt bring her a pair of scissors to cut the mats out of my ears. Hello, hey mom, if you would have brought me some Mickey ears, I could have ditched these stinky matted ears for some new ones! On the bright side, dad did offer to get me something to eat earlier! He said he was going to give me a chop! Of course, he said this once before, and nothing! Although, this time he said to mom; “come on baby, just let me give her a quick chop, it’ll stop her itching!” An analgesic pork chop? Doesn’t sound very tasty, but hey, if it’s going to stop this itching, I say chop away dad, chop away!

Mom came home from her trip! You would have thought she walked on the moon the way the furball was jumping up and down! As soon as she peeled the jumpin sack of fur off of her, she started handing out souvenirs. Let me see, dad got a tie, the boy they call Wyatt got some kind of toy in an egg, the little hippie girl they call Summer got a t-shirt, and oh yeah, I got squat!! Bad enough I didn’t get to go on MY vacation, mom came home without even buying me a set of Mickey ears! I could have used a new set of ears, my current ones are kind of itchy and stinky. Speaking of itchy and stinky, dad’s been scratching his entire body, nether region included, for the last three days. He says he has, big paw air quotes, “chiggers.” Mom goes on vacation for a week, now old dad is covered in “chiggers.” I can recall one time when I was dating the pit bull, I went out of town for a week, when I returned, he had fleas. He caught them from some skank at a local clipper joint. Anyway, dad is really itching! Let me see if I can help him; “aw, you’re my little itchy boy.” Did that help dad? No, I’m shocked! How about this; “stop itching you crazy human!” What? No better? I can’t believe this! Good luck with those “chiggers” dad!

As if my time here could not get any worse, it has! Last night, dad takes me and hillbilly hound out for our nightly business. The next thing you know, I’m locked in the basement, all by myself! It was one thing when I was left on the first floor by myself, while the sack of fur slept upstairs with the children. Now I’m spending the night locked in the basement? I don’t think so dad! My plan was to let the old guy go upstairs and have plenty of time to fall asleep. Meanwhile, I would sit at the top of the steps with my most indignant look on my face I could muster. When I thought dad would be good and asleep, I started my plan; “bark, bark, bark.” That’s dog for; no chance are you getting a full night sleep tonight. I heard the sleepy sap come down the steps, stumbling around the first floor, all the while asking; “what’s the matter Princey?” I guess he thought I was going to say something like; Summer, the little hippie girl had fell into a well! I would have none of that! I just sat there and gave him a good frowning, not a peep out of me! I guess dad thought all was well since I no longer barked, because the next thing you know, I heard him go back upstairs. Really, back upstairs, what did you think dad? Your little “Princey girl” was having a bad dream! That’s alright dad, you go ahead and get back in bed, you need the rest! “Bark, bark, bark,” that’s dog for; get your tired self out of the bed and come get your princey girl out of the basement! Down the stairs he came again, “what’s wrong Princey?” he says. What’s wrong? Oh I don’t know, I’m locked in the basement, the furball is sleeping upstairs with the kids, and Leann is off with my mom on my vacation! Other than that, everything is fine! Dad must have done three laps around the kitchen and dining room, finally, he goes into the living room and looks in my bed. What a shocker! I’m not there! I wonder why? Oh yeah, I’m in the basement! Hey dad here’s a clue; “bark, bark, bark.” That was dog for open this basement door before I have to get all crazy Shitzu on your floor! Dad comes and opens the door and exclaims “Princess, did I lock you in the basement?” No dad, I locked myself in the basement, you see at night, I grow about four feet taller and sprout fingers on my paws. Yes!!! You locked me in the basement!!! M-I-C, see ya vacation in Florida, K-E-Y, why? Because mom left me behind with the furball, M-O-U-S-E!

Another day at the house, all alone, just me and the furball. I ended the hunger strike last night, I just couldn’t take it any longer! I was starting to hallucinate, the furball was looking like a deep fried nitwit on a stick. This must be how Oprah felt when she fell off of her diet. To pass time, I’ve been watching a lot of news. Humans sure are messed up! It appears there’s a guy named Barack who keeps showing up in other humans back yards. After he shows up, he spends a lot of time answering questions from other humans. When he’s finished speaking, other humans tell less intelligent humans what he said. I’m guessing the humans who need to be told what Barack said, are the same ones who showed up at mom and Grammy’s garage sale.

Well here I sit on the couch, with my most pitiful, not going to Disney World look on my face I can muster. I suppose I could close my eyes and imagine I was riding all those fabulous rides, eating dinner with Mickey, rubbing Pooh’s belly, taking in all the parades. But I’m not going to let this bring me down, who needs to go to Florida to have a good time! Why there’s plenty of great stuff to do right here. I think I’ll go out to the garage and eat my lunch with a real mouse! Afterwards, I’ll go ride the tinkling rabbit hutch. Later, I’ll play scratch n sniff your ears. If I have enough energy, I’ll play who wants a poopy floor? Everybody knows there’s nothing better than listening to the Howling Half breed! Who am I trying to fool? I’m stuck here with the halfwit furball, while mom is off gallivanting at Walt’s place! Woe is me, curses!

Teeth are jutting out, seething with anger! Curses, RATFARTS! It seems dear old mom, left town without taking me with her! All Summer (the season, not the little hippie girl) long, mom has been talking how she and her BFF were going to Disney World! I’ve been looking forward to this trip for months, and she just ups and leaves with Leann. Yeah, the same Leann who muscled in on my swim time with mom earlier this Summer (season not hippie) Now it’s Leann eating with Pooh at a magical buffet! To think mom left dad to take care of Summer (hippie not season) and the boy they call Wyatt. How many humans does it take to open a can of corn? Apparently two! Summer (hippie not season) and dad were trying their best to pry a can open! Then once dad was able to pry the lid far enough for the corn to fall out, he acted as if he solved world hunger! Speaking of hunger, to further state my protest, I will be going on a hunger strike! I will only eat enough food to enable me to poop on the dining room floor. I wonder if I can Ebay my Mickey ears?

I’ve had so much going on, I haven’t had time to write at all! Where should I begin? How about with my getting into big trouble with mom and dad. It all started one day last week as I was sitting at the front door, minding my own business, when out of no where, one of my arch nemesis’, came running through my yard. Needless to say, I would have none of that! I gave the little tramp a good barking, letting mom and dad know there was yard skank afoot! Next thing you know, mom comes to the window and says, I’m not kidding, she really says this; “oh look, it’s a little Lhasa Apso!” At first I was like, I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly. She then says, “Honey, come quick, theirs a little Apso in the front yard!” Okay? Not exactly the emphasis I would have used, however, I could not have agreed more with mom’s assessment. Then dad comes to the front door and says; “oh, what a cute little Apso!” Again, I’ve been with dad when he’s been driving and gets a little road ragey, he’s never used this kind of emotion when using this expression before! I thought the little hippie girl they call Summer might have made mom and dad some brownies, something was mellowing them out. So, here’s where the trouble came! Mom gets on the phone and gives grams a call. During their conversation, mom tells grams; “we had the cutest little Apso in our yard today!” Well, after mom hung up with grammy, I figured when in Rome, do as the Romans! So I say, what’d that A#@%!^e Grammy want? Well, you would have thought I pooped on the living room floor! Mom started chasing me with a flyswatter, all the while threatening to wash my mouth out with soap! Talk about a double standard!

Last night, there was a lot of flashes of light and loud booming sounds coming from outside! It also sounded like their was a million double crossing hares peeing on our roof! I really should stop eating Mexican before bedtime! I always figured if something really bad happened, whatever it was, would happen to the furball. I mean really, bad stuff doesn’t happen to the beautiful breeds, just the half bred idiots, and I’m living with the king of the half wits! But I digress, as you probably know, the furball has been sleeping upstairs lately, leaving me all alone. Usually, I don’t mind, but if I need to provide an intruder with a sacrificial lamb, who better to serve up than the furball! Getting back to all the flashing and loud sounds outside, It all made me freak out and start crying. After a while, mom came downstairs and slept with me on the couch. This morning, dad started laughing at me because I was scared of a “thunderstorm.” A thunderstorm, really? Who knew? Don’t I feel a little foolish! By the way dad, what’s a thunderstorm? The girl they call Summer told dad about a thunder shirt. It’s a shirt I would wear to prevent me from becoming scared, kind of like sleeping with a .38 under your pillow. Dad said he wasn’t buying any such thing! He added he would give me a thunder hammer, but not a thunder shirt. After the talk about the thunderstorm, I started itching. I’m not talking a little itching, I’m talking itching like Whoopi’s boyfriend after a third date! I was contorting myself as best I could, but curses! I kept right on itching! Then mom totally confused me. Now, as far as I know, I’ve never lived, or, visited the show me State. But mom kept saying to me “you need to be put out of your Missouri.” My Missouri? I know I’m Chinese royalty, but I really don’t think I own Missouri, Virginia and Nevada sure, but not Missouri! Besides, I certainly don’t think I’ve done anything to be put out of the State!

Things have settled down here at the house! What with the meth lab controversy solved and all! I guess I’m glad mom and dad are on the up and up, but I do have to admit, I was getting a rush on the thought of being in an outlaw gang! What a story it would have made, maybe a movie of the week! Don Knotts could have done the voice over for the furball. Someone sultry for me, maybe Angelina Jolie! I could see it now, the furball making a total nuisance of himself, crying all the time. I’m sure I would have had to whack him to prevent him from snitching on the rest of us! Then of course, someone would have to do the voice of the pit bull, maybe Clint Eastwood. The producers would have to get someone to play those little pole dancers down the street, I wonder if the Richie and Hilton girls are still in show biz? If they could make Betty White mean, she could have played grams. I’m smelling an Emmy! Maybe not, it could be the new dog food? It makes me kind of gassy. Gotta run, chow baby!

Curses, I’ve got more yeast on my body than a bakery floor! If I don’t stop itching soon, I may have to get medieval on mom and dad! What’s it going to take? Am I going to have to rip my fur off and run around the house naked to get some attention? Oh sure, mom and dad give me Benedryl, oatmeal baths, and buy the most expensive hypo-allergenic food they can find, but when is the real effort going to come? It’s just a good thing I can contort myself like a Chinese acrobat, or, I may be climbing a tower! Enough about the itching. Turns out, mom and grams were on the up and up and weren’t doing anything illegal in the garage this weekend. They were just selling their throw away stuff to down trodden people down on their luck. Actually, I think St. Grams sounds quite good, don’t you think?

I’ve been lying low since day three of the “garage sale.” Mom and grams got dad involved in their illicit activity. Saturday morning, dad gets up early and says he’s going out for a 5k run! 5k can mean only one thing, I’ve watched Miami CSI!, 5 kilos of who knows what! After the “garage sale” was over, I heard grams tell mom she was taking all her “stuff” and going home. Now I know from my police experience, watching COPS, “stuff” can be code for just about anything! Later, just before grams was taking her “stuff” home, they were both in the kitchen, counting what appeared to be a whole lot of money! Then dad walked in, he was all sweaty and had a number pinned to his shirt! The cops must of busted him with the 5 keys, but dad, being ever cunning, escaped while they were trying to take his picture! Poor guy, it looked like he had run at least 3.1 miles! I had to take action, to save mom, and now dad, from all of grams “stuff“, but what’s a law shitzu to do? I thought about tripping the ringleader on her way out the door, but she picked just the right moment to leave, I had decided to take a nap. When I awoke, Ma Barker was gone. Then I heard mom say something which I thought was going to make me sick. Dad was trying to talk some sense into the woman, he said “why don’t you just throw the rest of your “stuff” into a dumpster and be rid of it!” Good thinking dad, get mom off the “stuff” and dispose of the evidence all at the same time. Then mom says, “no, I’ll just take the “stuff” to goodwill, I’m sure some kids could get some use out of it.” Having a meth lab in a garage all week with your mom is one thing, but now you’re going to get the kids hooked by some pusher named goodwill? I need to be quick and decisive to stop mom from spreading this “stuff” all over town, but first, I think I’ll take a nap,

Another day of mom and grammy holed up in the garage! There’s been a whole lot of cars pulling in front of the house, people getting out, then leaving. Garage sale my tail! I watch COPS, I’ve spent time locked up, I know what’s going on, Meth Lab! I mean really, am I supposed to believe they’re having a (big paw air quotes) “garage sale?” Who ever heard of such a thing, people buying stuff you no longer want? Besides, I Googled signs of Meth use, and I think they might be hooked! One of the first symptoms is irritability, grammy is all over this one! The next symptom is a lack of hygiene. Holy smokes, how long have these poor women suffered! Okay, moving right along, another symptom irrational behavior. Let’s see, gathering junk from the house, putting it in the garage, with hopes of people giving you money. I can’t go on, this is just too upsetting! It’s time to take action, I have to get grams out of the house with the hope of dad and I having an intervention for mom. I have to spring into my law dog persona! ♪♫♫♫ Bad grams, bad grams, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do, with a law shitzu?♪♫♫♫ Gotta run, I have to save mom

Teeth jutting out, I am so mad I could curse! RATFARTS! There, I’m not happy I said it, but it had to be said. I am tired of being everyone’s punching bag! Yesterday, the girl they call Summer, said my haircut was ugly. Hey hippie girl, where’s all the peace signs, flowers, and love. As if the ugly comment was not bad enough, mom says, (bottom jaw quivering) at least her face is cute. At least my face is cute? Now I know how Kirstie Alley must feel! Needless to say, this earned mom a trip to the dining room floor to clean up some piles of hurt feelings! Fast forward to today, I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening in the garage, mom and grammy were hanging out in there all day. My first thought, Meth Lab, then I heard mom say something about a garage sale. Apparently, a garage sale is where humans save, then gather all of the stuff they no longer want, then put it in the garage. Later, less refined humans will come along and give you money for the stuff! What a racket! I do have to admit, I was hoping for the Meth Lab, we need something to spice things up around here! Well, during the garage sale, grammy comes in and starts fawning all over furball again. So, I saunter over to get a little TLC from ole grams. Without provocation, grams tells me; get away, you and your blog are stupid! Stupid? Lets review our day. You, dear grammy, have been sitting out in the garage, in the rain, selling pencils, coasters, and used combs! Meanwhile, I have been lying on a couch, in an air conditioned home, not having to peddle my wares to creatures silly enough to venture out in the rain to find the perfect pencil, coaster, or, used comb which will put the cherry on the cupcake they call life! Your Honor, I rest my case! By the way, I’m not ruling out the Meth Lab, they don’t call her grammy for nothing!

Today has not been much better than yesterday. First, mom was supposed to take me to the beauty shop for a total make over. Which she did, however, she brought the furball with us! When we got a little ways from the shop, ole cry and whine started with the soulful wailing. How many times has the hysterical hillbilly got his hair cut? How many times must he cry? Once we arrived at the spa, I was thinking it’s time for a little lavishing! Mom tells the lady; furball is looking pretty good, just needs some trimming. Me, on the other paw, she tells the lady “just do what you can!” Just do what you can? What am I, chopped liver? (Editors Note: Princess did smell like rotten liver before her bath.) You’re quite the funny man aren’t you Mr. Editor. Anyway, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, what kind of instructions are; do what you can? I’m royalty, I should be treated as such! What kind of motivation does a beautician have when she hears; do what you can. Afterwards, due to some matting and very poor instruction, my hair was cut very short! I look like Sinead O’Connor during the bald years! Although, when I jut my teeth out, I do sort of look like Lady GaGa! PaPaPaPaPaPoker Face…. The furball, he came out from his treatment with a ribbon on his head! A ribbon? Really? What did he do, win first place at an inbreeding contest? He was all happy, jumping up and down, acting like some kind of prancing idiot pony! I’m sure those little lap dancers down the street will really go for a ribbon on his head! Maybe I could get the pit bull to put some stitches on flea bags head. Tomorrow has to get better, right?

Today was not the best for my self esteem. It all started with mom telling me she could hardly stand to sit next to me because of my odor. Then dad came down stairs and made me get out of his recliner. Once I was out of the chair, dad started freaking out! He yelled “what’s that in my chair?” Mom ran over and said it looked like dry skin. I admit I could use some moisturizer. Hey dad, have you seen the bags under your eyes? Dad just shook his head and said I was going downhill. Talk about hurt feelings! I mean really, who would say such a thing? Dad must have went to the Alec Baldwin school of raising your daughter’s self esteem! Anyway, I gave him a good frowning and went to my crate. Later, grammy and grandpa came over, all would be better, right? If you call getting dissed by your grandma better, then I was on cloud nine. As soon as they sat down, furball was all over them! Hey, I could go for a little fawning on by some of the more senior set. I thought I’d throw the old folks a bone, I’d lick their face, they’d rub my belly. As soon as I neared grammy, she said I was foul, all the while shooing me away! Meanwhile, she was treating furball like he was Wayne Newton! Talk about feeling lower than Tanya Harding! Tomorrow has to get better, I’m going to the beauty shop for a makeover ! Woe is me!

What a morning! It was raining harder than cats and rabbits! The next thing you know, old dad comes downstairs and wants me to go outside and do my “business!” Can you believe the nerve of this guy! Yeah, I’m just going to walk right out there in the rain, let all my glory hang out, and deposit a pile of “business.” This coming from a guy who needs 30 minutes, a magazine, and the stars to align, all while doing his “business” in an indoor restroom! I had to walk outside, there was no getting around the big guy, but I did my best Norma Rae, “hell no, I won’t go! To please the old guy, I did tinkle, but poop? Outside in the rain? That’s for barbarians, or, hillbillies! Speaking of hillbillies, furball couldn’t get outside to do his “business” fast enough ! The sack of fur and fleas must keep some “business” on hand, just in case he has to make dad happy. As soon as dad was out the door for work, I felt the urge come on me like a tidal wave! I could barely make it to the dining room floor! I was pooping faster than Paris Hilton after a day of being on the set, filming all of those Hardee’s commercials! A little while later, mom comes down the stairs, and goes all Naomi Campbell on me! I made a run for the crate, but she cut me off with the business end of a fly swatter. She was swinging that thing all the while telling me I’m a bad dog! Is that how you “rescue” animals mom, you beat them into next week with a fly swatter? Now, where’s that number to PETA?

Have you ever had something from your past rubbed in your face? To be completely humiliated to the point where you just want to have a good cry with Oprah? Well I have, here’s how it went down. Apparently, the little hippie, I mean girl, they call Summer, is having a birthday! Saturday afternoon, I‘m kicked back, ready to have some mom and dad time, when people started showing up at the house. Right off the bat, mom started with the whole (big paw air quotes) “rescue” story. If I heard once “she was a rescue,” I heard it a thousand times! I felt like jumping up and saying “please, tell us Batman, where did you rescue me from? I’m sure there’s some Chilean miners who could use your rescuing skills about now!“ After the whole rescue story, I had to put up with mom telling everyone “she stinks.” Really? I stink? I never noticed! My stinking, leads old loose lips to her next story about how those bladderless bunnies peed on me while I was looking for a fix! How’s a girl supposed to gain any street cred if your more embarrassing moments from the past are thrown in your face every time you turn around? As if matters could not have become more embarrassing, the furball started doing tricks like some kind of show pony. He began with jumping, high on the sliding glass door. Everybody started oohing and aahing, talking about how high furball could jump. Then he moved on to the crying on command, which just made everybody laugh! Finally, the party came to an end, and with the exception of a few stragglers, everybody went home. I thought, hey, maybe Saturday wasn’t the best day, but there’s always Sunday, right? Oh nooo, Mardi Gras doesn’t last as long as the little hippie girl‘s birthday celebration! Sunday afternoon we started the process all over again with another party; rescue, rescue, stink, stink, pee, pee, jump, jump, cry, cry, just with a whole new group of people! Anyway, I have no more dignity, I now know how George Michaels must feel! Gotta go go!

Earlier, I was sitting on my perch (in front of the storm door) giving all who passed by a good barking. Dad was out in the front yard, pulling weeds and trimming the bushes. A lady, who was walking what appeared to be the Furball, only he was twice as big as the furball, passed by our yard. Dad asked the lady if her dog was a Cockapoo? Better watch it dad, talk like that could get you pepper sprayed! The lady replied her dog was a golden doodle. A golden doodle? Really? Dad said he has a cockapoo. Geez dad, just put on a trench coat and flash the lady why don’t you. The lady said she was trying to get her golden doodle to walk on a leash, but was having a hard time. Dad said he has a hard time walking with his cockapoo when it’s on a leash as well. I thought, don’t worry ma’am, I’m dialing 911. The lady just smiled and continued to walk the oversized half breed. Dad went back to pulling weeds. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at the old guy the same again.

I just don’t know how much longer I can hang on. Dad stopped taking me out to do my “business” while he tends to those free tinkling rabbits! It’s been two days since my last fix! I can’t keep anything down, I have the shakes. Hello, my name is Princess, and I’m hooked on poop! Hush little puppy, don’t say a word, mama’s gonna buy you a rabbit turd! I can’t take it! I’m cracking up! Okay, must remain calm, I’m sure one of those four legged poop dispensers is going to come through any minute. All I have to do is wait for a little spillage over the side of the hutch, and bingo! I’m back in the game! Let this be a lesson for all of you out there thinking about getting hooked. Sure, the pushers all act like your friend at first! Come on under the hutch, enjoy our magical droppings, it’s free, they say. Then, once you’re under there, they treat you like you’re David Hasselhoff on the bathroom floor searching for your dignity! I don’t care how many times mom bathes me, I just can’t stop feeling dirty. Must remain strong, if not for me, then, who I am I kidding, it’s all about me!

Teeth jutting out! Curses! Apparently, the drops I felt falling on my head while under the rabbit hutch wasn’t rain! Those little double crossing bunnies enticed me under their hutch with their nuggets of deliciousness, only to pee on my parade! This is why mom thought I was rotting from the inside out! According to dad, rabbit pee really, really stinks! I thought it was weird it rained every time I got under the hutch to get a fix. I feel skankier than a Kardashian after an all nighter in an NFL locker room! I cannot believe I let my love for bunny poop distort my judgment so much! I better get that video from Furball, the one where I couldn’t help myself and broke out into song under the hutch. Rain drops keep falling on my head… If he posts that on You Tube, my singing career could be over! To add to my humiliation, mom came home with a bottle of shampoo called “For Smelly Dogs.” I bet she lathered, rinsed, lathered, rinsed so many times my skin wrinkled like one of those Shar Pei freaks! I can just hear those little foo foo dogs down the street laughing, acting like their all high and mighty, with their non peed on heads! After my bath, mom and dad were so happy! It’s amazing how little things, like me not making their home smell like a sack of dirty diapers, make them happy. You know what makes me happy? Rabbit poop! There, I said it again, it’s delicious! Now where’s my umbrella and galoshes.

It’s treason, downright blasphemous, guess who has a crush on one of the little wiener schnitzels down the street! Furball! He came out from under the couch today and professed his love for one of those pint sized sidewalk poopers! Can you believe it? Just because he got roughed up a little by her, he’s all head over paws! The canine Casanova needs to grow a backbone! Of course, he’s always been the submissive type. Who would have thought he would fall for one of my arch nemesis’! I can’t hold my tongue any longer “RAT FARTS!” What did I ever do to him? I’ve always been there for him, through thick and thin. Didn’t I take him back, when we were at the big house after the pit bull was pardoned? (Editors Note: Princess sold the furball to the pit bull for a pack of cigarettes while locked up at the big house, some would call it a kennel) Teeth jutting out, a quick Princess note; “I, HATE, EDITORS!” Now I know how Jennifer felt when Brad left her for Angelina. I don’t know how much more I can take! At least I have an ally in the girl they call Summer. After all this unfolded, I heard her tell mom, “we should just put the poor thing out of her misery.” Wow, I always thought hippies were passive, but hey, you go girl! I knew I was her favorite, but to have her think death would be better than dating the furball, she must really despise the old boy! Now the furball is running around, putting product in his hair, trying to get those cowlicks he calls fur to lay down. I was kind of hoping to see the hillbilly gene pool watered down, not built back up! I guess I am jumping to conclusions, it’s not very likely the stuck up socialite would fall for such a nitwit! Furball reproducing? Maybe I should be put out of my misery! Gotta go.

It’s the second day of school, so far, mom and I have not bonded at all! If she’s not cleaning the house, she’s telling me how disgusting I smell! If she doesn’t watch it, I could get a complex. No, I’m just joking, you have to care to get a complex! To be truthful, I prefer the au natural smell! I’m not sure, but I think I recall a time during my teens, when I did the whole Bohemian thing. A lot of us girls back then were not using deodorant, or, shaving our legs! Besides, who wants to be a foo foo dog like those little uppity pups down the street? They walk around here like they’re some kind of high society, noses all up in the air, all the while they’re tied to the end of a leash! When’s the last time you saw Paris Hilton tethered to a leash? Wait, don’t answer that! Anyway, they eat their food out of a bowl just like me and the furball. Speaking of the furball, it’s day three of him living under the couch. He’s under there crying about how bad his nose and butt hurts! Those little diva’s didn’t even break skin! Can you imagine if the pit bull came over and sunk his teeth into the furball? How I got stuck living in the same house as this flea fur combo is beyond me! I think I’ll text the pit bull a little later, surely, he’s getting tired of his “old lady” by now. Talk about ugly! She has to sneak up on a bowl of water to get a drink! Why she’s so ugly, when she was born the vet slapped her mother! Man, I crack myself up! If I don’t get some rabbit poop soon, I will crack up! Ever since mom and dad had an intervention, the poops harder to find than a sober Kennedy! Not much else going on, smell ya later!

Do I ever have a spring in my step! Both kids are back in school, dad’s at work, the furball is traumatized hiding under the couch from yesterday’s humiliation, which leaves the whole house for me and mom! I really think we need to use this time to do some bonding, some real girl time. Who knows, maybe we’ll have a pillow fight, do some swimming, or just have a good cry while watching Oprah. All I know, I have eight months of just me and mom! Of course, I do have some business to tend to. I still need to get the pit bull over here to take care of furball, I need to get revenge on those little lap dancers from down the street and finally, I have to get this rabbit poop monkey (sorry PETA, if it makes you feel any better, the poop monkey is invisible) off my back! Mom would probably argue with my priorities, she’d probably say I need to get myself clean, stop smelling like Frito’s, get a little dental work. Dad’s all kind of messed up, he never came through on giving me those chops, instead he’s now talking about taking me on vacation, “a ride to the farm” is what he said. I wish he would just make up his mind. Anyway, not much going on today, gotta go!

I always knew furball was a sniveling coward, but today takes the cake! Earlier, I was sitting at the front door giving everyone who passed by a good barking. So furball starts with the skittish act, he’s eating, drinking, or, even just walking across the kitchen floor like someone’s gonna lay a smack down on him at any minute. I asked him what his deal was, to which he replied he was worried about the dog he had seen in the curio cabinet ambushing him. I didn’t have the heart to tell the sack of fur he had seen his own reflection in the curio cabinet mirror. Being ever helpful, I thought I would try to build him up a bit. You know me, I’m always trying to help the poor guy. I began by telling furball he looked pretty tough when he was mad. I also told him he should just march into the dining room with the meanest, scariest face he could muster, to scare the other dog away. Furball was unsure at first, so I asked him, what are you, a dog, or, a mouse? Well, this shamed him, who knew you could shame such a pitiful beast. Next thing you know, the furball started making these crazy eyes, all the while flaring his nostrils and fangs. With a great ado, he marched himself into the dining room, saying something like, please don’t make me kill again! As soon as the warrior nitwit hit the dining room floor, he caught a glimpse of himself in the curio cabinet, all you could see was fur and elbows, he was running so fast, pleading all the while “please don’t let that ugly beast kill me!” I found the ninja mutt hiding under the couch. It took a while, but I finally talked him out. He was crying, saying between snivels he had never seen such a mean ferocious beast in all of his life. I suggested he shouldn’t have started out with such a big opponent, maybe he should get those two little yappers down the street who are always being paraded by the house on their leashes, looking at me, I mean us, like they're all high and mighty! I told the furball “we’ could jump those oversized hamsters the next time they were walked by the house. I ensured furball I would open a can of whoop butt, maybe break out the brax, I mean brass knuckles and teach those ankle biters whose the boss! I told furball the dog in the dining room would be so impressed with our fighting skills, he would surely leave the house. So the plan was set, the next time we see those dogs being walked down the street and someone leaves the door open, we‘ll be all over the Pointer sisters like Rosie O’Donnel on a chicken leg! Who knew our opportunity would have come the same day! As mom was returning home from the store, those two hairballs were being walked right past our house! I told furball it’s now, or, never, so he jumped out the door, ran through the garage, and headed right for my two arch nemesis’. I was right behind furball, when all of a sudden, curses! I had to stop and itch my body! Furball ran right into the eye of the storm, he took a bite to the nose and posterior, which sent him running for the house faster than Leno gave Conan the boot! There I was, left all alone, I gave those two mini marauders a good frowning, stuck my nose in the air and promptly returned to my abode. Oh well, I guess furball will just have to stay under the couch a little longer.

Well the weekend is just about over. Dad is hiding the rabbit poop, so I’m having a little harder time getting a fix. Mom says I’m disgusting. I’ve achieved the Frito’s odor in just a little over a week. A short time ago, mom exclaimed she smelled “Axe” by the steps, I thought enough already, I know I smell bad, at least I don’t have a speech impediment! Then she said she was choking on the smell of “Axe.” Okay drama queen, I get it, I smell bad, get over it already! I mean really, how rude! At least I can pronounce my esses! Does dad say he’s going bax fishing? Does the girl they call Summer have to go to math clax? You won’t believe this, mom just yelled up to the boy they call Wyatt and asked him if he “spilled his Axe?” Now, I’ve been pretty sick before, but I didn’t think you could spill one of those. Poor kid! Now, this is where it gets really weird! She called the boy downstairs and asked him “how much Axe” he sprayed on his chest? I thought, get the kid to the doctor, or, better yet, the circus, if he’s able to spray his chest! The boy seemed a little upset, and said he just sprayed a “little.” Mom was all over him though, she said “you sprayed more than a little Axe, you must of sprayed a lot,! I can smell Axe all the way down here!” Well, I’ve gotta go, I think I’m going to be sick, I bet Laxxie didn’t have to hear about Timmy’s gastrointestinal oddities.

Teeth are jutting out, feelings are hurt! Mom and dad took the kids to the State Fair, guess who got left at home again with the furball? I cannot believe how many times I’ve been dissed this Summer! Yeah, that’s right mom and dad, I said it, Summer’s a season, not a name! Anyway, I thought dad was going to give me something special to eat before going to the fair yesterday. It was a little confusing, mom was holding me, telling dad how bad I smelled and disgusting my fur looked, when dad said he was thinking about giving me a "chop." I sure was hoping for veal, or, pork, turned out, I got nothing! The confusing part was how dad said he would have to serve it to me, "a chop right behind the neck," is what he said. Whoever heard of receiving a chop behind the neck, I mean really, they complain about my fur being messy now, can you imagine if he placed a chop behind my neck? It must be some kind of holistic food ,because dad said all of my problems would be over with just one good chop behind the neck. I guess I’ll have to wait for the kids to go somewhere, dad said he wouldn’t be able to give me the chop when the kids were home, he said it might upset them too much. C’mon dad ,you big cheapskate, spring for the kids a chop, I’m sure they’d enjoy one. Dad may be over estimating how much I can eat, he said one chop may not do the trick, I may need two, or, three chops. Here’s the funny part, dad didn’t say one thing about giving furball a chop, I can’t wait to see the look on his face when dad’s giving me two, maybe three chops and he’s just standing there getting nothing! Just what he deserves, nothing! Sooner or later, we all get what’s coming to us. Gotta run

Something is terribly awry! I’m only five days removed from my visit to the beauty shop, and I already stink and look like Amy Winehouse after an all weekend bender! Dad thinks it’s because I’m eating rabbit poop, mom doesn’t have any idea, she just says I stink like "death!" Well, here it is, I hate to admit it, but the old man is right! I have a problem! It started with just a few pieces of rabbit poop here and there, you know, just to take the edge off. Now, I can’t help myself, I find myself hanging out by the rabbit hutch at all hours. I need help! My name is Princess, and I love rabbit poop! There, I said it, it’s delicious! Who knew it would make your breath stink and your fur look like it was brushed with a blender! On the bright side, it is pretty chic to have a problem. Maybe I can get on a show with Paris and Nicole, I mean really, those little lap dogs didn’t bring anything to the show like I could, the mutts in the purses were kind of boring as well! Gotta run!

All in all, a pretty quiet weekend! I got home from the beauty shop Friday afternoon, where I received (paw air quotes) "the spa treatment." If getting sprayed in the face with an aerosol can is "the spa treatment," then I sure got it! Supposedly, the "spa treatment" made me smell like vanilla. Mom was so giddy, she made dad smell me when he got home from work. Well, the next thing you know, they’re passing me back and forth smelling me, like I’m some kind of water pipe. (Explains the girl’s name a whole lot more) Anyway, mom kept asking dad "can you smell it, can you smell it?" Then she said, "It’s vanilla," can you believe the beauty shop threw in the "spa treatment" for nothing! Little did she know, I got a little snippy with the beautician, which caused her to throw in the "spa treatment" free of charge! My hair do’s pretty cute if I say so myself! I kind of look like Naomi Watts, except when I jut my teeth out, then I look like Katie Couric. Gotta go, mom said something about the girls getting together for a little swimming later today, I sure hope the pool water doesn’t dilute my "spa treatment!"

This day has not started out the greatest. The pit bull’s old lady called, apparently, she was looking through his phone and found my texts, thank goodness she didn’t find the pictures I sent! Anyway, she started with the whole "stay away from my man" routine! I was all like "whatever," she was all like "no you didn’t." The call got old after a while, so I hung up on her. I guess I’ll have to find another way to get my revenge on old cry and whine. So after the phone call, mom starts with the "where’s my pretty girl," I figured one of three things; I’m either gonna have to swallow some pills, go to the vet, or, go to the beauty shop. CURSES! It was the beauty shop. Just when I was getting my hair the way I liked it, I have to go and get it cut! Besides, dad was really liking my aroma, he said just last night he had never smelled anything that smelled like me! I bet they’ll put some cheesy ribbons in my ears, try to make me look all foo foo, just so mom and dad can carry on about how cute I am. Well, let me tell you, it’s hard to look foo foo when your bottom teeth are jutting out! Gotta run, I feel a little protest coming on!

Things aren’t going as planned today. First of all, the pit bull is still really upset I stood him up. He also said something about turning over a new leaf and giving up the bad boy image. I asked him if he could just do me this one little favor, I mean really, how hard would it be to come over and scare furball? The mongrel is afraid of his own shadow, can you imagine if the pit bull came over and got all Naomi Campbell on him! I’m sure he wouldn’t be sticking his tongue out at me anymore! He might be swallowing his tongue, but not sticking it out! Besides, dad said I’m one in a million, the pit bull just doesn’t know what he’s missing! The girl they call Summer, you know, the one who stole my place at vacation bible school, is coming home from the float trip today, I’m sure she’ll be greeted like some conquering hero. I can just see the furball now, jumping up and down, running around the house acting like he just won best in show at Westminster! Like that could happen, did I mention he’s a half breed, not a pure breed such as myself? Oh well, gotta go.

August 4, 2010


What a relaxing day I should of had! The girl they call Summer, (still makes me laugh, everything’s groovy man!) is on a float trip, and the boy they call Wyatt, was off with dad for take your brat to work day, or something like that. So this should of left just me and mom, kicking back and taking it easy for the day. Of course she was still a little upset with me after I defamed the dining room last night. I was really hoping mom and I could of had some real quality girl time today, you know, maybe get a pedicure, talk about our lives, laugh, cry, laugh again. You know, girls just being girls. There was only one problem, and it happened to be wearing a black fur coat! Old cry and whine was right there, up in our grill every time we turned around! You would think he would have felt a little awkward, being the third wheel and all! I wonder if the pit bull is over the skunk incident yet? I think it’s time I give the old boy a call and take care of this ignoramus once and for all! Gotta run!

Last night was uneventful with the church kids, except the furball made a complete fool of himself. It all started when the church kids began to arrive at the house. Well of course, the simpleton had to jump up and down, acting like Tom Cruise on Oprah’s couch every time the door bell rang. It didn’t take long before dad put us both out on the back porch. I figured I’d just catch a few rays while passing the time. Not old cry and whine, he figured he’d pass the time by jumping up on the sliding glass door, I will say this for the bag of hair, he sure can jump! When the jumping didn’t work, he lost his dignity quicker then Miley Cyrus! He started with the crying, not just whimpering, I mean Lindsey Lohan in a court room type crying. It was awful! You know, I almost felt sorry for the poor guy, he can’t be altogether right. Enough about furball, I’ve got a rabbit hutch to go hide under, it is getting to be lunch time, gotta go!

Bad girl, bad girl, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do, when they come for you... Man, if I heard "bad girl" once this weekend, I heard it a thousand times! Not only did I get stuck with the furball this weekend, mom and dad left me home alone with him on a Friday night! Well, there should be none of that! So, I left a little home warming surprise on the dining room floor for the happy couple on their return. Saturday, me and the humping wonder of the world, got left home alone all day! Well, once again, I left a little protest in the dining room! Let me back up a little bit, apparently, on Friday, the girl they call Summer, you know the one who stole my place at camp, crashed a golf cart into a parked car. Needless to say, this caused all sorts of drama, at camp and at home! Talk about what goes around comes around, I’ve just never seen it happen this fast! I certainly would not have crashed the cart if I had been driving, just another reason dad should have protested and stood up for his favorite girl! I forgot to call the pit bull and tell him I wouldn’t be at the meeting place Saturday night. Apparently, his eyesight’s not the best in the dark, let’s just say if we were in Arkansas, he’d be engaged to that skunk! Old cry and whine cried Friday night when he had to sleep downstairs with me. He was pretty brave Saturday night, he told me he would be going back upstairs Sunday night, as soon as the kids came home. Well, last night was a whole other story! The kids went to bed without furball! I haven’t seen crying like that since Chris Brown was on the BET Awards! Oh well, I need to get ready for the church kids tonight, talk at you later.

I have never been so blind sided before in my life! This morning I had my bags packed and was ready to walk out the door, when out of no where, the girl they call Summer jumps in the car and steals my place at camp! RAT FARTS!!! Before the girl pulled a fast one, I had already given the furball a good tongue wagging and was just waiting for the valet (dad) to carry my bags to the car. I guess dad felt so sorry for the girl, he didn’t have the heart to tell her she couldn’t go. Afterward, to add to my humiliation, the dim witted furball was grinning and sticking his tongue out at me! I understand not wanting to hurt the girl’s feelings, but come on, the church kids were expecting me! Not only will the kids miss me, I kind of made arrangements to meet the pit bull for a little skinny dipping after lights out! Lights out is just a suggestion anyway! This is just terrible, what was once going to be an exciting weekend has now turned into a weekend stuck in the house with Forrest Hump! Curses! Gotta run, I have to get furball’s bowl back in front of the curio cabinet.

Wow, what a day! I am as excited as one of those contestants on the Price is Right! I still have a bone to pick with Bob Barker, but that’s a story for another day. Anyway, I overheard dad saying he was going to miss his favorite boy and girl when they were away at church camp this weekend. I knew I improved from one week of Bible study to the next, but who knew I’d get invited to go to camp! I can’t believe how much packing I have to do; there’s the sun screen, the bug spray, and all the other unmentionables a girls needs when she’s off to camp. I can’t wait to see the furball’s face when me and the boy leave for camp tomorrow. In fact, I’ve been practicing different ways to stick my tongue out at him as I saunter out to the garage to get into the car. I’ve also been thinking of some scary stories for sitting around the campfire with the kids, my two favorites are the Headless Dogcatcher and the Tell Tale Heart Worm. Just think, three whole days away from the night crier, just me, the boy and the rest of the church kids. I better pack my pepper spray, you never know when you might run into a dim witted creature of a lesser blood line with an overactive libido! It’s bad enough I have to live with such a creature, let alone get attacked in the woods by one! Hopefully, the girl they call Summer, (what, were they hippies in their earlier days?) doesn’t get her feelings hurt over this. She’s a sweet kid, but come on, how can she compete with this total package? Since I will be away at camp, I probably won’t be able to post anything until Monday. I’m so excited, I better go eat some rabbit poop to take the edge off, gotta go!

Today’s Wednesday, or, hump day as some people like to call it, which is kind of ironic given the nature of my post today. It all started this morning, the furball had been begging and pleading from under the couch for me to get the "pit bull" out of the house. He said the incident out at the pool last Monday was a one time thing. He assured me it would never happen again. Well, this just sent me over the edge! "One time thing!" I cried, how about the prior church people incident, which inspired dad to come up with the children’s book title "The church people and the h—ny dog," you can fill in the blanks. Dad thinks he’s so clever, humpety humpety went the dog, "oh my" exclaimed the church people! Yeah dad, you’re clever alright! "What about all the other incidents out by the pool," I asked? Nothing gets the furball randier than newlyweds on a beach, than mom and dad having guests out by the pool! The sack of hair pleaded he had a "problem" and would "seek help." Seek help? I’ve been covered in yeast for weeks and smell like a bag of stale corn chips, I don’t think help is coming! Hold on a second, let me look at our medical coverage, no, nope, psychiatric treatment for half breeds who can’t keep their pants on isn’t covered. Color me surprised! As far as I’m concerned, furball can just live under the couch! Happy Hump Day, gotta go!

Bible study with the church kids sure was fun, no digestive disorders and no furball looking for love in all the wrong places. As I mentioned in my last post, the furball is afraid of his own reflection. How does one become afraid of his own reflection you ask? Actually, it’s quite easy when you’re dealing with a half breed who also happens to be a half wit. One day, mom placed our food and water bowls in front of her curio cabinet in the dining room. The cabinet happens to have a mirror in the back, I think you know where this is going. Early on, when the furball approached his bowls, he saw his reflection in the mirror. Well of course I couldn’t let such a golden opportunity pass, so I yelled, run furball it’s a stray! The furball ran for his miserable life, crying and whining the whole way. Well the furball being the dullard he is, was convinced there was another dog in the house. The poor guy would hardly ever eat or drink, and when he did, he looked like he was avoiding sniper fire! Talk about funny, he was so scared, mom had to put his bowls in the kitchen away from the curio cabinet. So, as I said, last night the furball was in hiding. Somehow, before Bible study, furball’s bowl was moved in front of the cabinet, as luck would have it, he caught a glimpse of a big ugly black dog as he was getting a drink of water. I took this opportunity to convince ole jump and hump the pit bull was in the house to take care of a certain tongue wagging, upstairs sleeping, bones jumping, flea bag. Ahhh, a night without the furball, just me and the church kids! Bible study’s paying off already!

Well it’s Monday, time to unwind from the weekend and start focusing on the week at hand. (Like I can focus on anything after my eyes were probed by marauding children last night) Those of you new to my postings, probably don’t recall last Monday evening. The church kids had been coming over every Monday night; they sit around the pool and have Bible study. I thought what the heck, I’m going to go out to the pool and pick up what they were laying down. On my way to the pool, I was hit by some Tex Mex I had enjoyed earlier in the day. As hard as I tried (I really didn’t try that hard) I was left with no choice but to lay a little something down by the pool myself. After I politely pooped on the rocks behind the kids, the furball jumped out, he looked like Hugh Heffner after a stag party! Before I could get away, he had me in his clutches, the poor mixed breed sack of hair, he was professing his love, screaming he loved me because I’m so bad, all the while his eyes were glazed over like honey suckle hams. Well this caused quite the stir with the study group. Did I mention the study group is Baptist? Some of those Baptists frown upon dancing, let alone what the furball was trying to accomplish! It wasn’t like I didn’t try to warn the children, but they were all giggling like little church girls before I could get a word out. Well tonight, I am going to make a much better impression! No Tex Mex and the furball’s in hiding from his reflection (another story I will have to share later.) Gotta run.

Wow, what a weekend! It all started Friday night. So much for the pit bull and his “old lady” patching things up. About midnight the muscle bound galoot drunk dials me. He’s all like, what’s up baby. I was all like, what’s up playa! Anyway, he sounded friskier than Jimmy Johnson on his Extenze commercial! He started with the whole misunderstood thing, how I’m the only one for him. He tells me he’s been looking at the pictures I e-mailed him and he wants to come over. So I tell him, until he can start fulfilling my needs, him and his “old lady” might as well stick together. I mean really, all I wanted was for him to come over and break three or four of the furball’s kneecaps and he can’t even do a little thing like that!

Saturday, I don’t know what was going on. The boy they call Wyatt was singing “I’ll Be There,” over and over and over! I don’t know where “there” is, but I was wishing he’d just go and stop singing. Later, mom and dad mention going to the homecoming for a talent contest. As flattered as I was, It had been a while since I’d done any dancing or singing, but I thought, hey, why not? I mean, I certainly have room on the old trophy shelf for a trophy, or, two! Well the time comes to leave, guess who got left behind, if you guessed Princess, you’d be right! Just me and the furball on a Saturday night! Furball started with the do you think they’re coming home routine? I responded with do you think I can work up a bowel movement before they get home? Later, mom, dad, and the boy come home. The boy had a ribbon, apparently from the talent contest. Now, unless they’re giving ribbons for Grammy’s these days, I’d say they were a little over excited! Of course the furball was jumping up and down like he’d just one first place in the biggest idiot contest. Poor furball, he’s so simple, not sophisticated like me.

Sunday, dad says he’s going to get the pool ready for a party. As long as little kids aren’t invited, I’m down with a party. Dad vacuumed the pool while mom cleaned up inside. I did my part by not being able to decide whether I wanted to be inside with mom, or outside with dad. Later, the guests started to arrive. Curses! You couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting a kid! Dad said the kids were just curious. Yeah he’s right, they just wondered what would happen to a dog’s eye if they stuck their grubby little finger in it! My whole body was itching before the kids started probing my eyeballs, in fact, my eyes were the only thing not itching before the party! Oh well, having your eyes probed does take your mind off itching! There’s always next weekend. Now, where's that Visine?

I cannot believe the way this day is starting! First off, the furball got to sleep upstairs again, apparently my protests are going unnoticed. The Pit bull, who most of you know I met while in lock up when the family went on vacation without me, has blown me off. He told me if I ever needed anything, to just call and he’d come running! Well I do need something! I need the furball to pay for his disrespectful attitude! The pit bull sent a text saying him and his "old lady" were going to try to patch things together and make things work. Well I need for doctors to have to try to patch the furball back together! Not only has he been sticking his tongue out at me every morning, he totally embarrassed me last week in front of the church kids while they were sitting around the pool trying to find God! I didn’t even know he was lost, and I certainly didn’t know he was out by the pool! Anyway, back to the furball, mom’s taking him to get a bath and a haircut this morning, meanwhile, I’m covered in yeast again! So much for all the different food she’s been giving me. I’ve got more yeast on my body than a Krispy Kreme getting ready for a cop convention. I guess the pit bull really wasn’t my type, I mean really, who likes all those chains and leather straps, and he did have a drooling problem. I guess there’s more than one way to skin a furball! Gotta run!

Day 1: Lately, dad’s been letting the furball sleep upstairs at night. Old cry and whine cries like Jimmy Swaggert and Richard Simmons at a revival for fat women every time there’s a thunderstorm. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I enjoy sleeping with the furball, it’s just the fact he’s up there sleeping with the kids and I’m left down here to fend for myself. So, I decided to leave dad a few piles of protest this morning in the dining room. Dad’s response, he told me I was a bad dog! Really, I’m a bad dog, I’ve never felt so contrite before in my life! Just kidding, I wasn’t sorry at all. Now, if he would have came at me with the business end of a fly swatter, then I may have felt some sorrow. Anyway, it’s the whole charade of dad telling me to go to bed, me scurrying into my crate, and then dad carrying the furball upstairs out of my line of sight which really gets my dander raised. It doesn’t help in the morning when the furball sticks his tongue out at me while dad’s carrying him back from upstairs. Well, I better log off of here before they change the password on this as well, besides, I’m working on convincing the furball he was adopted, anything to get his stomach in knots. Sniff at ya later!

More about Me

Since my arrival here, I have struggled with dad over where I do my business, he would prefer I go outside, I prefer the dining room floor. I mean really, who poops outdoors, except furball, and he’s just a trained seal wearing a fur coat. I’ve said it before, I’ll poop outside when dad puts on a black fur coat and goes outside to poop. Recently, I’ve been using dad’s smart phone, hey I think I just used an oxymoron, to post updates about myself and furball’s adventures. Dad changed the code on his phone, leaving me with no choice but to hack into his computer and create this blog.