Cheers,
It was last December when I last wrote about our Entitled Dog. Tammy mentioned to me recently which Ginger overheard and gave me the cold furry shoulder for not mentioning her since Christmas. She made it clear the only worse than talking badly about her is not talking about her at all. To keep the peace in the house with both mother and dog, here is another story of My Entitled Dog’s in her own words.
My Dad ponders himself as a great writer spending many hours hunting and pecking on the keyboard without mentioning me. We all know that I am the star of his stories and he wouldn’t sell a single copy of his books without me. All my adoring fans feel pity for the pathetic author and buy copies because they know it pleases me.
Starting a couple of months ago, he started having me sit before going through the laundry room to exit my door. The feeble old man felt it was necessary since the time I barely grazed his leg while passing his slow butt to my exit door. He yelped at me and I turned to see him clinging to the steel shelves lining the wall. This over-dramatic sissy pants released the shelving and claimed I buckled his knee. I don’t even know what a knee is. How could have I buckled it? Because he was so clumsy, I had to sit and wait for him to open the laundry room door.
The other day, he let me out and Bentley, the vicious dog from next door that Dad thinks is cute and cuddly walked with its owner. Naturally, I barked out my warning. Barely two barks into protecting our home, this overgrown fat old man was dragging me back into the house. There he kept me for another ten minutes until the danger was gone. My job as chief defender of the house was stolen from me by a grumpy old tyrant who is likely to be eaten by a dangerous animal someday.
Monday turned into the nicest day of the year so far and I decided to teach the naïve, fat old man a lesson in dog revenge. It started as the blazing sun rose on an exceptionally warm March morning as I did my first bathroom break for the day. Half an hour later, I tested the day again to find it warmer than before as the new sun warmed my orange fur. By ten in the morning, I made Dad let me eight times with one of them being for a quick sip of water. I kicked my bowl for more water and he complained, “There is still water in the dish,” as he filled it up to my liking. That taught him for calling me a karen all the time.
These statements are true and accurate because they come from me, Thee Queen Karen, Lord Protector of the House, Defender of the Neighborhood, Top Dog, Chief Cook, and Head Bottle Washer, and Chief Inspector, Ginger.
God bless,
Danny Mac