I sure wish dad would make up his mind! Friday, during the day, he couldn’t sing my praises enough, making such statements to mom as; Princess sure appears motherly with Mimseigh, Princess has really turned the corner on her behavior, I can’t remember the last time Princess pooped on my dining room floor! Well, after praises like this, you would think I would get some upstairs cred! The Furball, who’s barely able to remember to breathe and walk at the same time, he gets to sleep upstairs! The little hippie girl they call Summer, eats like every meal might be her last, she sleeps upstairs! Me? I’m motherly to the wrinkle bag they call Mimseigh, plus, I gave up pooping on the dining room floor! Where do I sleep? Downstairs, like a common half breed. Well this just frosted my kibble, I would have nothing more of it! Friday night, I decided to take a stand! After mom and dad (big paw air quotes) "snuck" Furball upstairs, and went to bed, I started voicing my injustices! Woof, (translation: come get me, I know Furball is up there,") three minutes later, woof, (translation: "I’m not going to stop, until I get to come upstairs.") I continued this until, you guessed it, dad came rumbling down the stairs in his underwear, snatched me up faster than Monique grabbing the last chicken leg at dinner, and carried me upstairs! Excellent, victory at last, at least it appeared as such! Once I was upstairs, there it was! The biggest bed I have ever seen! Dad sat me on the carpet and jumped back into his bed. Not much of a victory, there was mom and dad lying in this huge bed, with that no good sack of fur, Furball, hanging his head over one end. To make matters worse, Furball was all smug, sticking his tongue out at me! I tried to jump into the bed with them, drats, how’s a petite girl such as myself expected to jump into such a tall bed? Oh well, I’ll just enjoy the carpeted floor by rolling around. To let dad know how much I appreciated being upstairs, I thought I would do some grunting and groaning as well. So much for showing your appreciation, dad grabbed me back up, took me down stairs, told me to go to bed, then went back upstairs! Well, I have never been so insulted, woof, (translation: "not this time daddy-o, I can do this all night,") With this crazed look in his eye, here came dad, running back down the stairs, for pity sakes, buy some pajamas! He grabbed me up again, I thought, finally, he’ll apologize, then carry me back upstairs. Oh no, all of a sudden I’m being spanked like one of those Kardashian girls after a cheap bottle of wine! Just as quick as he came down the stairs, back up he went! Woof, (translation: "was it something I said?") Saturday night, the little hippie girl had a couple of her girlfriends over for a sleep over. Dad asked Summer if I could sleep in the basement with them. Hang on dad, who knows what kind of hippie activity might go on in the basement? But guess what? there wasn’t any pot taking, or, anything at all you would expect out of a degenerate hippie, it was actually kind of nice. We just did some girl stuff, watched a movie, then went to bed. Sunday night, dad seemed all remorseful for giving me the business Friday night. We then went through the ritual of dad sneaking the Furball upstairs and him telling me to go to bed. After dad went to bed, I thought I would get a drink of water, what do you know, the water bowl’s empty, I’ll just let dad know. Woof, (translation: "hey, I’m out of water down here.") Here comes dad, running down the stairs, why do I even bother, with nothing but his underwear, to get me a fresh bowl of water, I thought! No, dad wasn’t coming for water, he grabbed me up again and began to pick up where he left off Friday night! He then puts me back down, tells me to be quiet, then goes back upstairs. Woof, (translation: "I guess a roast beef sandwich was out of the question!")

You won’t believe this! Mimseigh gets special treatment, this is nothing new, I can live with that. But mom has started photographing the little menace’s poop! No, this was not a misprint, the woman is taking pictures of poop! She says the poop resembles the shape of a heart! Really? Heart shaped poop? What’s next? Barf that smells like lilacs! Just so we all have this straight, the sack of wrinkles poops on the floor and mom acts like the paparazzi at a Lady GaGa sighting! I poop on the floor, I get the business end of a fly swatter! Yeah, sounds fair to me. A while back, I had a poop which looked like Andy Rooney, without the nose and ear hair of course, but still, Andy stinking Rooney! You would have thought 60 minutes was ending right there on the dining room floor! Did mom take pictures? No! I was just a bad girl! An Andy Rooney pooping bad girl! We did have another harrowing event in the middle of the night last week! As I was lying on the couch, enjoying my beauty sleep, a terrible storm came rumbling through! The next thing you know, a siren went off, which brings dad running down the stairs in a stupor, just like during the fire, wearing nothing but his underwear! You’d think he would have learned his lesson after the fire, but no, there he was, running toward the basement like a Wisconsin Senator running toward an Illinois Holiday Inn, wearing nothing but his tighty whities! Poor guy, he was so distressed, he forgot to grab his little Princey girl on the way to the basement again! Mom was close behind dad, with the kids following quickly behind! The next thing you know, this roar came over the house, you could feel the house shake! Dad described the roar as the sound of a freight train. In fact, every time he repeated the story, he would say “it sounded like a freight train...” If you would have busted out one or two of his front teeth and put him in front of a trailer park, you would have swore you were watching the ten o’clock news!