Mommy's Gone, Let's Party On!
Mommy has gone to a far away place to visit her mommy for the weekend. I was originally also supposed to go and meet my extended family; but once I found out that the far place where the meeting would occur is actually that rancid cess pool known as Ohio, I put my paw down. Mommy was nervous about leaving me and Daddy alone, something about being irresponsible, unable to follow simple instructions, and likely to poop all over the floor. I am assuming that all those complaints were directed at Daddy. It took some time but we reassured her that we would not fall apart when she was gone.
After all, could anyone with an innocent face like that (Me) or a hairy arm like that (Daddy) ever do anything bad.
It wasn't five minutes after we got back from dropping Mommy off at the airport that me and Daddy opened up and shared a brewski, my first. I know it may seem odd to drink at eight in the morning, but do you really think that when the Berlin Wall fell those guys waited until noon to start partying? This was merely our liberation.
Yummy, can't get enough of that wonderful Duff. (Disclaimer: In no way was this caption approved by "The Simpsons" and we do not intent to imply any connection or endorsement with that wonderful show.)
I enjoyed my brewski so much that I tried to drink the fake beer on my Daddy's Peter Griffin (from "The Family Guy") slippers. I was not successful.
Daddy saw a measuring cup with my dog food and asked me how many I got. I told him three. He did not believe me. After a while of arguing we compromised and he went to Safeway and bought two 24 ounce bone-in Ribeyes. I basically swallowed mine, and this is me eating the remaining bone.
It's almost bigger than my head.
I did not give up until I got every last little bit of meat off.
My neck twists to surprising angles.
The aftermath: a horrible puggy alcohol and meat hangover. I don't know if I can take much more of this...I may actually need Mommy to come home.
Snarf you later,
/s/ Winston, Grand Duke of Pugsworth-