Thursday, July 22, 2010
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!
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Princess, this is Lil Ann. I am the 'new' addition at the Cunningham household. I wanted to offer some tips as I share the same problem with 'The Cat' who seems to think she is better than me for some reason. Maybe she doesn't tear up everything in sight or bark at the tiniest wind rustling outside the door. But hey, she poops in a box for goodness sakes. I mean, come on, how 'dignified' is that? Ever thought about getting into the medicine cabinet and secretly placing some laxatives in ole Furball's food? That will get some action going...heh heh heh....or lure Furball down to a newly ripped up pair of shoes, bark and then run like mad so the 'P's' think he did it.....I've got more...give me a call sometime and we'll chat.
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