What the Heck is Going On?

Life ain't so great of late. I don't know what has gotten into Mom and Dad, but suddenly they think they are boss. Who are they kidding!

They have embarked on this new nonsense of putting me in my house when they leave for work. Reportedly, this is because of the complaining neighbor again. He shall remain nameless - I don't want to risk a lawsuit now that my blog is award-winning and read the world over - oh what the hell, let's make up a dark, evil name to represent him...I'll throw it out to you, to give me some ideas...let me know!

So anyway, I like my house, but I don't like being forced into my house with the door closed. Yesterday Dad put me in there and I went rather beserk. They thought they were clever by leaving me a tiny waterbowl, dad's smelly socks ("oh your scent will comfort him," said my Mom. Comfort my ass Mom, they honk!!), treats and chews. They also read somewhere to cover the crate with a blanket to make it more like a den. What idiots. This is the 21st Century people, I am no longer a wolf like my ancestors. I dig sleeping in beds, not in cages disguised as dens! So anyway, while they abandoned me, I tore up Dad's socks, I overturned the water dish (not my wisest move in retrospect, since I ended up having to lie on a soggy mattress), scattered my chews and pulled the crate cover through the crate bars and tried to rip that up. My intent was simple - show those fools I was UNHAPPY.

But then this morning, Mom shoved me in there again. She then went to her bedroom to get a wooly hat (it's gone cold) and would you know it, genius that I am, I managed to bust out of the crate and went running and diving onto Mom and Dad's bed! Oh what pandemonium. Mom was shocked. And boy did I then make it tough for her to catch me and put me back in there. But fool that I am - I fell for the fetch yummy turkey treat thrown into crate trick. This time Mom made sure she had the door latched properly, and I was stuck. I howled. I cried. I barked. My Mother was stoic. And she left.

I heard her tell Dad later that she fretted all day about me being in the crate all day. Bloody right she should fret. But the joke of it is, when she came home from work, two hours early worried about me...I wasn't in my crate! Gracie's Mom had come over at 10:30am to rescue me and take me to play at her house with Gracie, Kila and the new kitty Mojo. Oh I can shit myself laughing picturing Mom worrying about me ripping up the crate when all along I was happily playing at Gracie's house! heh heh, it cracks me up.

Mom was not as amused. But I know she was happy for me.

On the way to our evening walk, we ran right into Nameless Neighbor and he started lecturing Mom about crating me and being consistent. Mom asked for him to tell her when he will be working and not home during the day so I don't have to stay in my house, but he refused saying, "consider me home every day from 9-5pm."
If I wasn't a peace loving canine, I would bite his ass. Then again, maybe not. It probably smells worse than Dad's socks.

AGC