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?