that bright light!

Dottie, Candy and I ran upstairs to get Mom and that Man out of bed, because they’re being lazy again. Mom was holding that little box again, which kept shining a bright light at us and making clicking noises. That was weird because she usually does that downstairs. She must have carried it upstairs with her last night.

She wouldn’t get up, and we got tired of waiting, so we all tinkled on the carpet. Of course, we each picked a good spot. One of us did number two, too, but Mom didn’t know who did it. We’ll never tell. We all looked at each other when we heard her say, “Great. They think our bedroom is a potty box.”

fetch?

We finally got to go outside and eat! That is always so exciting. Mom brought this round thing outside afterwards and threw it, asking us to “fetch,” whatever that means. Dottie and I weren’t interested, but Candy chased it, grabbed it, carried it a little way and then dropped it. I wonder if that is fetching?

 the table where bad things happen    

Things were going great, but when we came inside, Mom picked me up and sat me on that table where bad things happen!! However, she didn’t pick up that thing that makes a lot of noise and cuts off my fur. Instead, she gave me a treat and petted me, then she put me down. That wasn’t bad.

Later, Mom gave us this flat, white thing that was fun to chew on. She said it was something called a Flip. It didn’t have much taste, but it was fun.

scary man

We were all cozy in our area, and then that Man started talking to us and then came over to our private area, uninvited! We know Men want to hurt us, so we ran like crazy. He tried to pretend he was nice, by giving us hot dog pieces, but we know he has something very sinister in mind. I jumped on the couch so Mom would protect me. I couldn’t help it, though; when he held out more hot dog pieces, I took them.

Still, I don’t trust him! Or any man! In fact, I don’t trust anyone, except I trust Mom just a little. While I was running away from that Man, I couldn’t help it. I did number two on the floor. Well, it’s his fault. I heard Mom say that I need a counselor. Is that true?