If you pups and kitties have read my post last Monday ( for an archive of Moy-Moy's mondays only post, please check our sidebar- The Secretary), you would understand why I am sporting my special edition puppy eyes today. My pipsqueak sister Pussy had to tell everyone under the comment section where I really went that one monday I did not post.
Prison is not the same word as park, picnic or playdate-- so you never want to be there in the first place. For two nights, I sat alone in my cold and ugly cell, while my sister sat outside, leisurely licking her paws. I missed my plastic chew toy and my toasty old blankie, I wept like a girl and drove my folks out of planet lalala several times in one night.
Finally, the clinic's Disciplinary Tribunal decided to pardon me and so I was out the following morning. You bet, I was barking and bouncing off the ground, yellow liquid dribbling down my leg as The Assistant lifted me out my cell.
The Secretary set me up for a weekend play date with Marshall, who is like my big brother-- except that he is really way much bigger. Last year, I spent Christmas at Marshall's house and he taught me how to hold my pee long enough for me to get past the doggy door.
This time around, I am asking for his advice when it comes to dealing with very jealous cats.
Of course, we played a game of tug first while Marshall thought of something really smart to tell me. It turns out, he made me admit to certain things--bad things that maybe I've forgotten? Like climbing up on The Secretary's leg and doing my funny dance ( its humping- The Secretary), peeing on anything taller than me, chewing on very expensive shoes. The last one was really the meanest because I nearly bit my sister's face off and that got me in prison.
Marshall told me the ones causing all these bee hive oral problems are my boy bits. Huh? My eyes widened with what I heard and I just had to ask, no, whisper--The Animal Doctor was right beside me-- at Marshall's ear, just to make sure I understood him correctly: