"I was born in the house my father built."
"Call me Ishmael."
"In the beginning..."
"How-DEE!!!" (Okay now, wait a minute.)
What I really need is something dead to roll around in. (THAT'S it!) See, I got a bath and a trim on Monday & I've been trying to get this shampooey smell off me ever since. Sure, the girls love it, but I think it smells funny--it is NOT macho. But my humans, Thelma and Louise, can't get enough of it; they keep squeezing me & deeply inhaling my neck fur & threatening to bathe me more often and I'm like "Nooooo!" I don't mean to diss the nice folks at Posh Pets who got me all clean & fluffy, but I don't want to be laughed at in the park! I'm a big guy; I can't have other doggies laughing at me and my silky soft fur. (I *am* rockin' a terrific paw-dicure, I gotta say.)
I gotta hit the brakes on this grooming business or, next thing you know, they'll send me to get my teeth cleaned. When will it end??
2007-05-12
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