Boy, if this winter lasts much longer I think I might go batshit. Wait, can dogs go batshit? Then do bats go dogshit? Why is the sky blue? I love birds. Especially the dumb ones. And the ones who are too fat to fly. Boy there’s lots of geese here. Am I drooling? I thought they were Canadian. Do geese have passports? Where’s my bully stick? HOLY CRAP, WHO TOUCHED MY BED? I HAD IT ALL NICELY DISASSEMBLED WITH THE BOTTOM CUSHION HANGING FROM THE TOP OF MY CRATE. I know who did it. You do too. Patti. She’s always picking up after me. SO WHAT IF THE HOUSE LOOKS LIKE A SCENE OUT OF “REVENGE OF THE TOYS.” Wait a second, I need to groom my giant barrel chest. (Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick) I watched the Westminster Kennel Club dog show last night. Yes, really. What’s the deal with the word kennel? Time to retire that. Anyway, tonight my breed is on. I wonder if any of my relatives will be showing. I should be there. They still call us “bitches,” you know. I thought we had evolved beyond such stereotypes. WAIT A MINUTE, ARE RAP SONGS ABOUT US? My paws itch tonight. They stink a little bit too. But they taste good. Uh-oh, my stomach doesn’t feel so good right now. Do I have groundhog breath?
Posts Tagged ‘cabin fever’
Groundhog Breath
In Uncategorized on 02/15/2011 at 6:34 pmCabin Fever
In Uncategorized on 02/02/2011 at 8:12 pm
"If only I had wings."
Trading Places
In Uncategorized on 02/02/2011 at 5:36 pmOlive and I both have a serious case of cabin fever. We choose to handle it in different ways. I chase my tail in an endless circle until I pass out from the centrifugal force. Olive chats on the phone endlessly with people living in tropical climates. I pick up dozens of plush toys with my mouth, one at a time, frantically shaking them from side to side until exasperated, I fling them across the living room like they’ve been shot out of a cannon. Some actually leave skid marks on the walls. Olive flips through the TV channels constantly, driving me crazy. The remote experiences such friction on a daily basis, that I’m waiting for it to ignite. I run around the house from room to room trying to escape the crushing boredom. Sometimes I even end up in my crate downstairs in the dark…just standing there…waiting…for something…anything to happen. Olive picks up a magazine to read (usually her favorite, BaRK…or Weird New Jersey), but eventually she feels compelled to eat the nice fibrous pages. We stare at each other. Thinking the same thing. Punxsatawny Phil better be right. Or one of us will eat him.
Life With Olive 