Hello! It’s me.

Sometimes when I walk, I have a purpose, a mission, a reason for being. I’m busy assessing threats or looking to lick up bird droppings, that kind of thing.

Then there are days like today.

For instance, this plant sure looks a lot like cilantro, #amirite?

Cilantro makes me think of guacamole, and guacamole makes me think about avocados, and avocados make me think about mmmmmmmmm avocados!

Unfortunately, if you keep daydreaming about cilantro you are bound to run your schnozzle into a sharp thorn.

Ouch!

Then I see paw prints … Wendy … Wendy??

I dream of playing mixed doubles … Wendy and Dash against the fabled Chubacabra and a smelly, nasty Yeti. Final score … six-love, six-love.

Daydreaming leads to real dreaming …

… dreaming of sharing a generous sampling of avocado slices with Wendy.

Hello! It’s me!

Sometimes it seems like the world is on fire. Blazing. Planet heating up. Book of Revelations bad. Jacksonville Jaguars kind of bad.

If you are like me, you have to turn off Facebook, CNN, and Food Network’s Holiday Baking Championships. You simply desire something more nourishing than the vapid emptiness, the empty calories associated with modern media consumption.

For me, that something is a veggie bone.

These things border on being succulent, until you look up the word “succulent” and realize that the word “juicy” is in the definition. So let’s just say that these things are delicious and addictive. Anything that is addictive can be stolen. Theft is a threat, no different than rusted metals or the dreaded Chupacabra.

Dad thoughtfully offers me a veggie bone every third day #calorieconscious. Immediately, I begin assessing the threat of theft.

It’s off to the races!

Oh God, Dad’s following me. DAD IS A THREAT. I decide to hide in the Master Bedroom.

I didn’t think that the bedroom was secure. I mean, no room is really secure! I needed to hide the veggie bone. But where?

Yeah, that’s the ticket. The couch!

Oh for the love of God, I dropped it.

Time for a new game plan. I picked up the veggie bone, and attempted to hide it in the other end of the couch – nobody will notice me there.

Nobody notices that I’m hiding it here … oh wait … Dad again!

STOP LOOKING … JUST STOP IT … STOP LOOKING.

It’s the old couch accessory gambit … set up a diversion with the pillow coupled with the effective shrouding of a blankie. That should work, right?

Nope. Time for Plan D.

STOP LOOKING AT ME – I’m trying to hide in this blankie, don’t you get it?

I sensed that Dad was going to keep hawking me – maintaining a constant and annoying threat. I needed to develop a game plan, a diversion. I plotted my next move.

And then, I “dashed” into the dining room. And while Dad looked at an abandoned blankie, I turned left and never looked back.

That, my friends, is how you avoid a dire threat. Via careful planning, swift decision making and a modicum of deception, I was able to enjoy my veggie bone in peace.

Hello. It’s me!!

On a random trip into the closet, I found this sock in one of the bins, so I selected it as a preferred chewie, eschewing the lovely stick sitting right in front of my face.

You see, pre-laundered socks have just the right combination of male foot sweat and embedded particles to really tempt the taste buds.

And I honestly don’t understand why Dad would sneak up on me and demand that I relinquish my newly found hosiery.

Then this happens.

Dad you ?$&# stop taking my sock … stop it … MINE!

Ok, yours.

Hello! It’s me.

Could somebody please turn off the rain machine that has consumed the Pacific Northwest?

I mean, unlike humans, I have to go to the bathroom in that stuff. The whole situation is depressing, if you ask me!