'Don't lick there'...'don't jump up'...'no running around'...blah blah blah....
This is soooooo boring. I'm not allowed to do anything fun. I haven't been out for a walk since Monday. I felt too depressed yesterday to write, it hurt when I sat down and I couldn't get up on the bed unassisted. Embarrassing. I felt so low that Mum took advantage of me and made me wear my fleece because I was shivering. I told her it was only because of the shock of my loss, but no, she insisted I was cold and needed it. Grrrrrrr.
Plus, I'm sure my food rations have been cut AGAIN. Mum says I'm still on a diet to lose weight (what???? I'll be a skeleton if she has her way) has now been upped because 'done' dogs put on weight more easily. Even less food. Great.
My life is hardly worth living.
Oh, and I have decided I have a bone to pick with Dad. He's a bloke, right? He has...bloke's bits. So, here's my question.
How in the name of everything manly did he let her do that to me???????????
Hmm? Dad? Oh, nothing to say eh? Funny that. Realllllly funny.
Thursday, 21 May 2009
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
I have been violated!!!!!
Shock. Horror. The most fell deed imaginable. Betrayed by my own mother!!!!
Please, if you are of a squeamish nature, I beg that you look away now. And no, Bran, there are no photos.
The truth is...I can hardly bare to say it. Here goes...
I have been unmanned! Yes! I, Clive, am two peas short of a pod! Or should that be two pods short? Well, however you like to put it, I am no longer the man I once was. My short and curlies have been shaved as well so I look like an overgrown puppy whose pods haven't even shown up to the party yet.
The Shame.
I really thought, at the grand age of 3 1/2, that I had gotten away with it. That Whippet had been unmanned since before he came to live with us, and to be honest he's such a girl anyway he'll have hardly noticed any difference. But me! How can I strut my manly stuff now?
The worst of it is I've hardly had anything at all to eat since 7pm yesterday evening. Mother seems to think a tiny bit of roast chicken when I arrived home will be sufficient, but she should know better!
I am overcome by feelings of loss. I will retire.
Adieu.
Please, if you are of a squeamish nature, I beg that you look away now. And no, Bran, there are no photos.
The truth is...I can hardly bare to say it. Here goes...
I have been unmanned! Yes! I, Clive, am two peas short of a pod! Or should that be two pods short? Well, however you like to put it, I am no longer the man I once was. My short and curlies have been shaved as well so I look like an overgrown puppy whose pods haven't even shown up to the party yet.
The Shame.
I really thought, at the grand age of 3 1/2, that I had gotten away with it. That Whippet had been unmanned since before he came to live with us, and to be honest he's such a girl anyway he'll have hardly noticed any difference. But me! How can I strut my manly stuff now?
The worst of it is I've hardly had anything at all to eat since 7pm yesterday evening. Mother seems to think a tiny bit of roast chicken when I arrived home will be sufficient, but she should know better!
I am overcome by feelings of loss. I will retire.
Adieu.
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