Aug 31, 2013

Diary of a Sad Dog



 

Diary of a Sad Dog

Dear Diary – It has occurred to me today that my dearest human has never sniffed my backside. I must bond with him in different ways. Like my father always used to say, if you want someone to look you in the eye make sure that your mouth smells exactly like your butt. It's difficult to argue with that logic and so I have eaten some rotting earthworms in preparation for my dear human's return, as well as one of his socks. 

Dear Diary – it's not so much that I miss my testicles; I know it's a rite of passage in our pack and I'm sure that my dearest human has had his removed as well but when that one bulldog comes to the dog park and parades his testicles around I can't help but notice how Ginger looks at them. I love Ginger. To be fair I will admit he has a fine smelling butt. 
Dear Diary– the cat is a curious magical creature. It's as if a teddybear mated with a cactus and it's much less fun to play with then it would appear and yet it poops delicious candy into a box of pee flavored sprinkles. Dearest human guards these treats jealously, often harvesting them into a barrel, but I will admit that I sneak one from time to time. They are delicious, forgive me. 

Dear Diary– this is the 733rd day that I have tried to test what cat swore to me was true; namely, that if you hump anything long enough you will find a flower. So far the results have been mixed. My dearest human's leg flower has not revealed itself. However I'm almost certain that I felt something on the brown teddy bear. More tests are needed. 
Dear Diary – I have yet to see my dearest human poop anywhere, I suspect he may not know how. I have resolved to teach him when we patrol the neighborhood each day in search of man with hats and beards. It is embarrassing to do in public but he must learn somehow, I fear he will die of constipation If don't succeed. Fortunately my dearest human seems to show some interest and is now collecting my feces in a small bag. Soon. 

Dear Diary - I must be more careful when licking myself. My dearest human seems sensitive about it, most likely because he is incapable of licking his own. As always I am in awe of his ability to be so noble despite what I can imagine are filthy, filthy. He hides them everyday. 

Dear Diary - Today I have added a fourth circle to my pre-pooping ritual. As before the first circle is to verify that I do in fact need to poop. The second is to check for gremlins and men with beards and hats. The third is to re-verify my need for pooping, and now the fourth is to honor my newly deceased toy stuffed llama. Rest in peace, I didn't mean to shake your head off. 
Dear Diary - I told the cat about how my dearest human has promoted me, teaching me to shake hands so I can participate in his business dealings. However, cat pointed out that I am often unaware of what I am shaking on. For example, when I shook the neighbor's hand this morning, I have no clue what I agreed to, none. Cat says this is how the devil buys souls. I will pee on the bed for comfort. 

Dear Diary - My dearest human asked me where the ball was when it was clearly in plain sight. I brought it over and he threw it even farther away then asked me where it was and was very happy when I brought it again; perhaps a metaphor? Dearest human leaves each day and I am happy when he returns wait, maybe he is the ball and I am dearest human this is too much... I must pee on the bed.
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