I’ve really been trying to be a good boy since my great escape but there’s so much I want to learn about and it seems to get me in trouble. This house of mine is so full of smells, small objects, corners, windows and gadgets I just can’t seem to stop myself from getting into “mischief” as Mom and Dad call it.
I have some new nicknames, Mom calls me Menace, Dad calls me Shithead, Mom and Dad both call me Naughtyboy a lot. I know Naughtyboy isn’t good because Mom is usually shaking her finger at me or it’s followed by a swat on the butt. Not a fun swat either, sometimes it stings a little so I know I’ve done something bad. It seems it happens when I’m in the middle of chewing on something, apparently something I shouldn’t be chewing on.
We’ve been doing lots of fun things too. Sundays we go to the bar where I get to see lots of people! I have a few girlfriends at the bars that we visit. They kiss me a lot and rub my belly. If I shiver they hug me super tight and whisper what a good boy I am in my ear. Most of the time I shiver when I’m not even cold, I like to be snuggled tight. Don’t tell them that though. I also like the car rides, Mom says I’m just like her and sleep in the car, her and I have lots of naps while Dad drives. He says he doesn’t trust Mom’s driving so he’s losing out on nap time.
I try to help around the house. I supervise when Dad loads the dishwasher and I ride the mop when they’re scrubbing floors. I also take laundry out of the basket for them. Dad and I work in the garage a lot so I need to supervise out there too. Most of the time they yell “you’re not helping” but that doesn’t make any sense to me, of course I’m helping.
Dad also has been introducing me to new things. One of those being a ride on a 4 wheeler and a lawn mower. I don’t mind it but I would rather be running around the yard exploring on my own.
We also visited Mom’s family far away a couple of times. Once when I was really little and I met a baby, he smelled good and was just my size so we snuggled. He kicked a lot though so I eventually had to move away from him, he wasn’t a good napper. They have a big dog that I like to play with but he doesn’t want to play and sometimes growls at me. His name is Rugby and he’s kind of a grumpy old man but I like him anyway. I think he secretly likes me but just likes to be grumpy because it’s his house, plus, I peed on the couch once.
Let’s get back to the real reason for my story. I got out of the kennel again. This time it wasn’t latched all the way after I was let out when Mom and Dad were at work. I was in the bedroom and I really really tried to just lay there and not explore. Needless to say, that didn’t work.
At first I was just looking around, you know, seeing what was under the bed, in the closet and in the bathroom. Then I smelled the garbage in the bathroom and I just needed to dig. Well, I found lots of stuff in there, Dad’s snuff pouches, Q-tips, an empty box with plastic on it and a bunch of Mom’s hair. I emptied the whole thing on the floor and ate a majority of it until I felt a little sick. I laid down for a while wondering if it would go away and of course it didn’t, it got worse.
My tummy was hurting pretty bad and I started to panic, and I mean really panic. I didn’t want to poop on the floor but I had no choice. I think it was those snuff pouches of Dad’s, I’m not sure how he puts those things in his mouth. I started scratching at the door hoping that Mom and Dad were really home and would hear me. I gave up after I had scratched the carpet down to the wood floor and finally pooped on the bathroom floor, A LOT. Boy was I sick.
Once I pooped I felt a little better and laid on the big bed until Mom and Dad got home. Mom and Dad were not happy when they opened the bedroom door. Not only was I not in my kennel but the room smelled pretty bad. And then they saw the carpet….or lack thereof. Holy mackerel did they say some very bad words, ones I have never even heard before. Mom was moving pretty fast too, she chased me all the way out the door and was threatening military school, the glue factory and the pound. I have no idea what those things are but none of them sounded good.
As usual they forgave me. The next day I was laying on the big bed with Mom and threw up on the blanket. Apparently the sock I had swallowed the night before didn’t digest. Mom was mad and then thankful, something about intestines and surgery….sometimes she makes no sense to me but I love her anyway.
I think it’s safe to say I will never ever escape from the kennel again. Within two days I had a new kennel and I see no way of escaping from that one. It’s okay though, my new one has a lot of room and I can see everything much better because it’s all open.