It’s Hard Out Here for a Hound

My Mamma left me for a whole week. Can you F**king believe it? She was playing spy games or something like that — CIA classes. I canNOT believe it. In protest, I pooped on the rug a few times and escaped once. that escape was fun, because one of my shorteared brothers picked me up in the big red car while I was smelling Brooksie’s tennis balls (the ones his daddy Jason throws to him, get your mind out of the gutter) and my brother lets me ride in the front seat.  (Hee hee:  I trained Daddy to send Mommy text messages from his Blackberry every time Jean-Luc and I pooped inside or escaped from the back yard.)

but I digress.  And I’m not letting her out of my sight for a few days.

My Daddy said I was limping. I thought I was doing the pimp roll but Daddy called it a limp. He waited for it to go away on his own, which Mamma said is Daddy-speak for “let Mamma take care of it, I have to play some golf.”

Dr. K. pulled on me, did some tests, looked into my mouth (I have no idea what he expected to see there), and Mamma held me throughout. I tried to tell Dr. K. about the pimp roll and how I saw it on a TVshow that my brothers were watching, but every time I opened my mouth he grabbed my jaws and pulled on my tongue. So he shot stuff into me and took stuff out of me, and Nicole and Steph rubbed my ears, while mamma hung out in the waiting room.

the diagnosis: Paw Owie.

Well, at least it’s not an ear infection or terminal wrinkles. I’d be screwed.