Friday, September 5, 2008

A Dog Tale: Teenage Wasteland

By Brownie
You can say that I am bi-racial. My dad was a full blooded Yellow Lab. My mom was part Chow-chow, part Golden Retriever, and yet another part mixed-Lab. I am pretty. My tail curves like a Chow-chow. With piercing black eyes, I just want to be petted. And to run off like a teenager. Run away and see the world. Chase the rabbits into their burrow. Run the squirrels up the tree. Make those cats screech to a halt. And scare off the white tail deer. Runaway is what I love to do. But Mom doesn't like it when I run off. So I only do it when she is not paying attention. Dad gets VERY MAD when I run off on Mom. But he just doesn't understand I have social engagements to make. I have neighbors who need to sniff me. I think they just don't understand me and my needs. I always come home, just not when they want me to. I come back on my own time. Did I mention I am pretty? I have the putrid smell of defecation splashed all over my matted fur. I wag my tail at the slightest attention. And I have a lovely low bark. I don't like to have my fur brushed. Except maybe my neck. That feels good. Too bad my parents just don't understand my teenage-like mind.


Dad said...

Oh, my dear Brownie: like so many children, what you fail to realize is that we do understand you! In fact, we were exactly like you when we were young pups!

And that's precisely the problem: we know what you are up to! We tried to hide the putrid smell of feces, we attempted to come home on time. (I was never caught sniffing, but came close.)

So understand that we KNOW WHAT YOU'RE UP TO and we just want you to be safe - and in the kennel.

Licks and sniffs,

G. Bush said...

Good job, Brownie!