HOME AT LAST!!!

It is such a relief to be home. The boarding kennel isn’t a bad place or anything, but it smells weird (like 5,000 different dogs and industrial strength cleanser) and it gets REALLY noisy. Mom thinks I’M loud… but she should hear some of these guys! And, don’t tell mom, but I got a little fraidy-scared. Two kennels down and across from me was this Mastiff named T-Dogg who kept flashing me gang signs. His two upper canine teeth had gold caps on them and I think I may have seen a gang tattoo under his fur. I can’t be sure. Out in the dog run I saw him push down a Malamute named Mallomar and then he stole his chew toy. He also was smuggling in pigs ears… I don’t know who they were coming from, but he must have connections from the outside. I know my mom and dad told the kennel owners NOT to let me out in the dog run with any other dogs because of my “socialization issues”, but I was so afraid they’d forget and put me out there with T-Dogg. Luckily they didn’t forget and for the first time, I’m glad I have these issues, whatever that means. They kept me from getting my ass kicked!

While I did my time in the kennel, I missed my mom, my dad, Lily the slut next door, and I even missed my brother. I’m a little bit disappointed that mom and dad didn’t bring me back anything from their trip, but they did bring home a buttload of fresh picked apples and mom promises she’ll bake lots of yummy apple stuff. And she is a rockin’ good cook. When she’s in the kitchen doing her thing, I just sit there and watch her. I get all hypnotized by the smells. Sometimes she lets me be her official taster. I get to lick spoons and bowls. And whenever mom bakes, something always manages to drop onto the floor. House rule is that if it hits the floor, it’s mine. For some reason no one fought me on this. No one seemed to want anything after it hit the floor. I don’t know why… it’s perfectly good. Dad says something about a 5 second rule? But anyway, mom sometimes gets mad at me because I’m always sitting right in front of the oven or sink. I try explaining to her that I like to see what she’s doing and these are the best angles, but she doesn’t care – she still yells at me to get out of the way. Sometimes she tells me if I don’t move away from the oven, she’s just gonna throw some marinara and mozzarella cheese on me and make Parker Parmesan. Now I don’t have any idea what Parmesan is, but it involves cheese and sauce – two of my favorite things – so I’m not protesting. Dad says I won’t like it, but I’m not so sure. I like everything mom cooks! Except carrots.