Hello! It’s me.
Maybe humans don’t have to worry about this, but it turns out that a lot of people don’t treat me well. Do I look happy that Frank is scouting my personal condo for his own selfish purposes? No. All I have to say to Frank is one simple phrase … treat me right.
After Frank drained his salivary glands all over one of my toys, I decided to decimate the keepsake.
Mom thought this was an invitation to playtime. She called me up on the couch, pulled me close, and then … and then … and then … she forcefully blew her moist breath all over my face for some God forsaken reason. Now if her breath had been mint-inspired, I might not have minded. But normal breath, fortified with humidity, launched at 20 knots directly at me? No thank you.
I walked away from her, sat next to Dad, glared back toward Mom to get my point across, then said the following phrase …
Treat. Me. Right.
Mom got the message … the next day we got to take a fun walk, one where I dictated the path. Now this represented some sweet action.
Do you see the joy on my face? The unparalleled enthusiasm, dare I say a “zest” for life? That’s the response I give to folks who treat me right.
Which reminds me … Christmas is just around the corner … another opportunity to treat me right, #amirite?
Hello. It’s me!!
My friend Julia is visiting this weekend. She’s looking at colleges. I wish she’d spend more time looking at me.
At one point I just got fed up. I hid under the bed – I mean, why does she drive all this way if she doesn’t want to spend every single moment with me, #amirite?
Mom tried to quell my angst with a toy. I tried to ask Mom when Julia was going to come back?
Nobody would give me answers, so I had a discussion with Dad.
Hello … it’s me.
It’s been a long, lonely week. Mom is in Houston at the Intergalatic Quilt show. She’s taking in all the sights and sounds …
I guess she’s there because 50,000 people are looking at her quilt. Whatevs.
I’m sitting here like a fool, waiting for Mom to come home. She left on Sunday. I asked Dad on Tuesday … “Is Mom coming home today?” He said no.
About twenty seconds later I reiterated my query. Again, I was told “no”.
I woke up Wednesday brimming with hope … only to have my hopes dashed (see what I did there?) … I tried to laugh it off …
On Thursday we went for a golf cart ride … I asked Dad if we were driving to the airport to pick up Mom … Dad said “no”.
When we got back from my ride I sat outside in the back yard, lamenting my circumstances.
Only the dulcet tones of the braking system of a UPS truck could take my attention off of my Mom.
On Thursday night I heard a car pull up in the driveway …
I was both thrilled and flabbergasted when I found out that Mom didn’t drive up but instead it was my friend Rob from California.
I spent most of Friday doting over my friend, following him wherever he went (until he, too, left me for a period of time). I made sure I let him know how I felt about having him leave me for a few hours.
Dad tells me that Mom is coming home tomorrow. I sure hope so. It’s been a long, lonely week, #amirite?