I won’t be online for about a week and a half, because we are having a family vacation – I am going to my favourite kennels (yes!) and the parents are going abroad for my aunt’s wedding. They seem really sad for not being able to take me – yeah, like I want to parade around in a miniature tie and be squeezed by all the tipsy relatives asking me who’s a good boy in baby talk!
I never understood why humans have this need to get married. If I found a bitch that I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, I would be really happy and I wouldn’t need her to be called Mrs Shaun or anything just to prove that she’s mine. Of course I’d pee on her instead and that would do the trick. But I suppose humans don’t like to do that in public, so they probably have no choice but to get married if they want to label someone as their property.
So instead they make all that fuss and spend all that money just to tell the world “Hey, this bitch is mine and from today on, noone else sniffs that butt!” That’s more or less what they say in the vows, right? There’s no harm in it though. And I am happy for my aunt and new uncle for having found someone to share the mutually exclusive butt sniffing experience for life.
In the meantime, I am still here searching for the one I can pee on forever.
It’s like Sting says – If you love someone, spray them with wee
See you soon
So we had that election thing yesterday and guess what? The world is still the same today, except for my dad who hasn’t slept most of the night and now looks like a zombie. But a happy zombie for some reason. I think he really wanted The Labour Party to get stronger. At least that was what I gathered from the fragments of his conversations to people for the last few weeks.
I don’t understand why humans care so much about all that politics nonsense. All the politicians want the same – money and power. And none of them ever mentions the welfare of dogs, so I couldn’t be more bored with them.
I guess The Labour Party wants to save the NHS so technically I would be rooting for them, but then again – there’s never been any NHS for dogs and I haven’t heard them say anything about changing it, so….
Having said that, The Conservatives want to legalise fox hunting and that’s just pure evil. If there are still humans stupid and cruel enough to hunt anything, they need to be stopped with any means necessary. And, as a canine, I feel somewhat related to foxes. Not to mention that I am a fox myself! (in a purely aesthetic manner of course)
So, all in all, I suppose it’s good that it resulted the way it did, although I still think that NHS should be accessible for dogs too! And there should be dog representatives in Parliament, dozing off during other politicians’ speeches, taking bribes and having affairs with their secretaries. That sort of life would suit me, I’m sure. Shaun The MP sounds good, don’t you think?
And anyone who hunts foxes can brexit off! @#$%
I might run in the next election. I have already started working on my future campaign. Here’s the first draft.
I thought I’d tell you about my first day in my present home as a little innocent puppy and show you how cute I was back then.
As we estabilished HERE, I was adopted by my human parents some time ago and lived with them ever since as their generally happy, but delightfully rebellious son.
I don’t actually remember my first day after adoption (or anything before it for that matter), but here’s how it happened, according to my parents.
When they brought me home, I was so scared, I hid in the corner and wouldn’t move for many hours.
Then they put my on the sofa to sit with them and I was even more terrified (I probably didn’t have a clue what those huge monsters wanted from me and imagination is always worse than the reality so…)
Anyway, probably because of all that fear, I got constipated and wouldn’t poo for the whole evening. As a result, I pooed a lot in my cage later on, when they were fast asleep upstairs. Then I howled, because I was forced to sit so close to the poo I just did. Then I stepped into the poo and howled some more. Eventually they got up at 5am (AT LAST!) and cleaned the whole mess up. They say I had never pooed in my cage after that. I’m not suprirised at all. I’m sure I’d much rather poo in THEIR bed instead, if I had the chance.
I was adorable though, right? Do you see that baby fat? That has now turned into pure muscle and sex appeal, I assure you.
I can’t help but notice how dopey I look on those old photos though. Do you think it’s possible my parents drugged me at the breeder’s house and simply kidnapped me straight from my poor biological mother’s womb? I wouldn’t put it past them!