Well, I finally found out what a Mimseigh is! A Mimseigh is when you are removed from the home, shrunk to one quarter your original size, then returned with a much better attitude! Imagine Rosie O’Donnell disappearing for a while, coming back as a plus sized model, and a whole lot less obnoxious! You would say “Rosie’s been Mimseighed!” Better yet, imagine Whoopi disappearing, coming back the size of Gary Coleman, only less offensive! You’d say “ole Whoopi’s been Mimseighrd!” This is what happened to Crunchface! They brought her back home after being gone for weeks, she’s one quarter the size she once was! I think the poor thing may have gotten some shock therapy! She has a much better disposition! To make matters worse, the whole family is rubbing it in Crunchface’s face! They’re all calling her Mimseigh! Talk about cruel and unusual punishment. Here’s the really strange part, Crunchface thinks I’m her mom! She’s been trying to latch on every chance she gets! The bad thing, she’s latching on in all the wrong places! Another strange thing, I’m feeling some maternal instincts here! No, I'm not going to be running over to exchange recipes with Madonna anytime soon, but motherly just the same. This could really cramp my style. I better fly right, the last thing I want, is to be Mimseighed!

It’s been a while since the fire, I really miss those rabbits! Let me be more clear, I really miss those little rabbit nuggets of deliciousness! I have been reduced to things I never thought I would do in a million years! With the nugget drought, I’ve been having to get my poop fix from the Furball! To make matters worse, there’s a foot of snow on the ground, I can’t risk letting the poop land and losing it! I have to get it while the getting is good. I can hardly look at myself in the mirror. Poor Furball is getting bound up! Who can blame him, imagine trying to do your business with a poop addict lying in wait, staring up the business end of your poop pump. Dad’s been having a hard time letting me get up close and personal with him. I can’t blame him, I just can’t help myself! The little hippie girl they call Summer, caught me in the act the other day, ever since she’s been walking around like she’s all high and mighty! It was okay when she was just high, but the mighty part is really making me mad! Who does she think she is? I don’t laugh at her when she’s eating, which, by the way, resembles a hyena gutting a wildebeest on the Serengeti! My name is Princess, I have a poop problem! Gotta go, I hear Furball’s stomach gurgling!

Things have started to settle down a little since last I wrote. I do feel a little uneasy being alone with the Furball these days! Not that I liked being alone with him in the first place, but I’ve got a vision burned in my mind, I just can’t shake. Earlier this week, mom and I went to go pick the sack of fur up at the beauty shop. Well, when we walked in, there he was, wearing a pink muzzle! Now, I’m usually one who says live and let live, what a dog does behind closed doors, is up to him. But this little freak was right there, in the middle of the store wearing nothing but a pink muzzle and a glazed over look on his face! I don’t know if it was all the verbal beat downs I gave him, his hamster finally fell of the wheel, or, watching too much Lady GaGa, but he is one sick puppy! Poor mom, she even had to tip the hussy who was playing out the Furball’s warped fantasy. I don’t know how he can even show his face around here any more, of course, he has no shame! Just when I thought it might be safe to walk around this place without my pepper spray, the Furball reveals this side of himself, Who knows, maybe the little hippie girl they call Summer slipped some Viagra in his kibble! I’m hoping mom makes the Furball register down at the police department. Gotta go, dad needs some help with his popcorn!

To say I’m living on the edge, is an understatement! First, Crunch Face goes for a ride with dad and does not return, Earlier this week, we had a fire here at the house! Furball was on it right away, he started crying, as usual, so mom and dad just ignored the town crier. The smoke started getting pretty thick, so I figured I better get in on the action. Ruff, I barked! Translation, get your butts out of bed, your house is on fire! Nothing! Woof, I barked! Translation, my paws are too big to dial 911, won’t you please get out of bed! Howl, Furball cried! Translation, I’m too young and handsome, to die! Finally, dad came rumbling down the stairs, wearing nothing but his underwear! Really? The house is on fire, and dad comes down the steps in his underwear? I thought, get me, your little Princey girl out of this place! As I sat there on the couch, suffering from the vapors, waiting for dad to scoop me up, he rushed right on down to the basement! Mom came rushing right behind, not quite as romantic as dad swooping me up, but hey, the house was on fire, so mom to the rescue it is! To my chagrin, she followed dad to the basement, leaving me and the Furball behind! Next thing you know, mom came running back up the stairs and woke up the boy they call Wyatt and the little Hippie girl! Apparently, the fire was outside, in the rabbit hutch, where those double crossing bunnies Crazy and Hazey lived. After a while, the Fire Department arrived! I thought jackpot! I’ll be swooped up by a big burly fire fighter, carried outside, maybe a little CPR, a quick snapshot by the media, the cover of Time Magazine, Movie of the Week, who knew where this could have taken me! Apparently, the fire fighter didn’t buy my damsel in distress look, and went right past me, and you guessed it, to the basement! What were they doing down there? Playing pool? After the fire was under control and everything calmed down, I heard the shocking news! Blazey and Glazey, oops, I mean Crazy and Hazey were killed in the fire! Something like this really makes one stop and think, mom and dad could have lost their most precious possession. What would they have done without me? I will miss those bunnies! Oh, and one more thing, please check the batteries in your smoke alarms! No, really, get up now, and check those batteries!

I’m not sure what happened, but, Crunch Face has been gone for almost a week! To say I’m a little confused would be an understatement! All I know, I told the little wrinkle fest dad liked it when dogs peed in his lap, and she was gone! Of course, this is also after I had told her mom really liked cleaning poop and pee out of crates. Who knew something like this would happen? I just can’t help but feeling partially responsible. Dad just doesn’t seem the same, a little melancholy, a whole lot crazy! Every time I get a little out of line, he starts talking jibberish! He says something like; that’s okay Princess, you’ll be getting a Mimseigh (Mimzee) on your tail soon!” A Mimseigh on my tail? Really? I think he may have eaten some of the little hippie girls brownies! All I know is I had a sharp toothed menace chewing on my tail 24/7. I don’t know what a Mimseigh is, but bring it on! How bad could it be? When Crunch Face left, the hippie didn’t miss a beat, in fact she went shopping! The boy they call Wyatt, now that’s another story! He cried like John Boehner in front of a 60 minutes camera crew! Id hate to see if something ever happened to me, they’d probably have to sedate the whole family. One time I heard dad say he just couldn’t imagine what life would be like without me! A Mimseigh on my tail, ooh, I’m scared!

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!