Squirrels. Die.

Squirrels. The bane of my existence (other than that other dog that thinks she lives here).  They prance around, wagging that huge fluffy monstrosity of a tail, taunting me. I keep warning the humans, trying to sound the alarm of their evil plot to overthrow civilization. All Mommy does is rub her head. Must be a sign that she needs more kisses until she is ready to listen.

Even when I’m minding my own business, sniffing the dirt, munching on some grass in my backyard, those damn squirrels saunter out. The Head Squirrel, who we shall call Wuss, just sits on the other side of the fence, TOO SCARED to come say his chittering taunts TO MY FACE.

I let loose a fury of responses, letting that squirrel know that this is my house. Mommy joins in; I can’t hear what she’s saying over my own monologue, but I’m sure it’s shouts of support and love for my efforts to protect us from those cowardly squirrels. After 10 minutes or so, she comes out and scoops me up, rescuing me from the exhaustion that is setting in from my lengthy and impassioned speech. She is also irritated, clearly with Wuss and his ugly, beady little eyes. As she shuts the back door and whispers “silence”, I know it’s so we can meditate on our victory together.  I can still catch a glimpse of Wuss outside as we sit on the couch, and my bravery takes over as I leap to the top of the couch and continue my war cry. Mommy starts whimpering in pride. She is totally impressed with my manliness and courage. Finally, Wuss scurries up his tree, and I know that we have won the battle. The war is not over yet though. Not until I strike fear into the hearts of every single squirrel with my voice.  Mommy and Daddy will be so proud of me.



Let me lick your face. Let me lick your face. Let me lick your face. Lick. Face. Lick. Face. Face. Licking. Face. Lick. Kisses. Now. Lickface.

If I say “lick” enough, will it lose all meaning, thereby lowering your defenses and allowing me to give you unlimited voracious kisses? I thought so. Grab a towel- it’s about to get real.

Thine Enemy

I wait. She continues to stare at me, wagging her stupid tail, slobbering all over her face. Disgusting.

I stay completely still. Perhaps she is like a T-Rex, losing me if I don’t move.

She starts growing impatient. I can sense it. She shifts, and then starts bouncing around like a kangaroo on crack. I glare at her while she careens in circles around me, getting dangerously close to my chew toy.  My mind begins to race with all the methods of torture I will enact upon her if she goes for the toy gripped firmly in my jaws. She shall not have it.

My war growl begins rumbling from the depths of my belly. My eyes dart briefly to the left, and as the stupid beast hops right, I sprint to the side and fly past her.  What a bumbling fool. I race under the kitchen table, where her giant head can’t get me. I have bested her today. But the war is not over. She has invaded my territory, moving in on my castle. She plays with my toys, sleeps in my bed, and, as the most egregious offense:

She. Sits. In. Mommy’s. Lap.

Or at least she tries shoving her huge ass in there. Ridiculous mutt should know that she is no lapdog. She must learn her place. And I shall teach her to behave.  After I chew on this toy under the table for a few hours.