My Priorities

I got a cool new donut toy tonight! It's got three squeakers in it, and it's super easy for me to hold onto.

The problem with my toy, however -- and the reason for this blog post -- is what Mom did with the donut. She gave me the new squeaky when she got home...and then she had the nerve to expect me to go outside to potty! How nutso is THAT?!

She should know me well enough by now to know that ain't going to work. I do NOT leave squeakies, especially NEW ones, to do something silly like potty outside. When I get a new toy, nothing else matters.

Mom had to pull and tug to get the donut away from me, and then she also had take the donut outside with us before I'd even consider joining her out there.

I think it's pretty obvious to everyone (and it should be obvious to Mom) that my priorities are as follows:

1. Toys.
2. Cookies.
3. Doggie food.
4. Belly rubs & ear scratches
5. Going potty outside.
6. Going for walks.
7. Naps.
8. Taking up as much of the bed as possible.
9. Working on my plan of taking over the house with my toy collection.
10. Whatever else Mom thinks she's gonna get me to do.

So Mom should really have known better. Just when I think I've got her trained, she goes and does something stupid like that...

Debate Over a New Rule

If you've read my blog for long, then you probably know that I have an ongoing debate with Mom about the amount of toys that I should be allowed to have. In my opinion, two of us live here, so I should be allowed to have 50% of the space in the house. And I prefer to fill that space with TOYS. Makes sense, doesn't it?

Well, that same theory also applies to the space in the bed. We share the bed -- even though Mom claims it's "hers" -- so I say that I should get 50% of the bed, too. Right? And if I want to fill my half with toys, that's my prerogative.

It's very important to sleep with toys. You've gotta have 'em nearby just in case you want to snuggle or squeak in the middle of the night. And I always personally select the toys I want to snooze with. Heck, sometimes I even sleep with a toy in my mouth.

So, you can imagine my shock and disappointment when Mom announced today that we have a new rule about which particular toys are allowed in the bed. That's just absurd! They're MY toys, so I should get to pick whichever toys I WANT.

But noooooooo. Mom declared that my latex and rubber toys are no longer allowed in bed. That means no more orange soccer ball to snuggle with.

Obviously, I gave Mom quite a look when she made this announcement.

She says that my white soccer ball and my rubber chicken are also not allowed anymore.

Her lame reasoning for the new rule? Mom claims that she's tired of rolling over on a loud, latex toy in the middle of the night. I guess the round balls and the rubber chicken sometimes "migrate" over to Mom's part of the bed. And since I like to take my 50% out of the middle of the bed, they don't have to travel very far.

Although dogs love a good squeak any time of the day or night, it seems that people don't really appreciate rolling over on a loud squeaky toy at 2:30 a.m.

However, in all fairness here, I should be an equal party in any rule making and thus I should be allowed to have my pick of any of my toys to sleep with. I don't mind a squeak in the middle of the night. Mom needs to just adjust and adapt.

My solution to Mom's problem? She can always just go sleep on the couch.

Rainy Night Argument

It was a rainy, rainy night tonight. All evening...rain, rain, rain.

When you gotta go outside to potty, the rain poses a bit of a problem. And when you don't like to get wet, then it's an even larger issue. And when you need to spend some time to, well, take care of your business outside, then the stupid rain is a huge, horrendous catastrophe.

That's the basis of the argument that Mom and I got into tonight. She said that I was too antsy because I had to poo and refused to do it. I said that there was no way I was going to do that when it was pouring down rain outside. I do not like to get wet.

After several rounds of bickering this evening, Mom did the unthinkable. She had the nerve to take me out on my leash and MAKE ME STAY OUTSIDE -- in the rain -- until I went poo! She kept yelling at me "GO POOP! GO POOP!" in the pouring rain. I got soaked. Mom got soaked. Eventually, though, I just broke down and did my thing so that we could go inside and she'd stop yelling "GO POOP!" like a crazy woman.

But when we got inside, I sure gave her the stink eye.

And then I went and hid under the blankie on the couch.

I really think this qualifies as doggie abuse. I'm sure of it. My only consolation is the fact that Mom got soaking wet right along with me. And, of course, all of our neighbors now think she's absolutely nuts...