The question:

-dollars for Mamma’s Jimmy Choo sandals (not the ones Jean-Luc chewed)

-Miles to my oldest brother’s college

-pounds of gorilla that my Daddy keeps talking about

-Dollars to diagnose my paw owie

Hey, I’m worth it.  No matter what Jean-Luc says.

Hey.  Most days, I’m happy playing with a paper towel tube or whatever socks I can find — often, a bug will suffice.  But for some reason,Mamma keeps bringing home toys.  Some make noises (a bean, a gorilla, a pig and a lobster), and some just squeak and look funny (feet, rubber chickens, a big yellow orangutan).  But the other day, she brought home the most wonderful toys:  Dirty Rotten Kitty, and Chef Doggie Dog.

they are MINE,all mine.  Jean-Luc may not have them.  I called them, I dibs’ed them, and he won’t listen.  I take DRK to my bed for a little gnawing, and there he is, with CDD, trying to hide him under the table.  No!  No no!  I race across to get Chef Doggie and as soon as I get him, Jean-Luc takes Dirty Kitty!  Once I finally got Dirty Kitty and Chef Doggie, both, with me, Jean-Luc just sat there and watched. I thought he was falling asleep, and I finally could relax.  I turned my head for a second and what does he do?  Covers about 15 feet with one big jump, and pinned me to the floor.  I got the loose skin in front of his ear firmly in my teeth and pulled, and he retaliated by taking a big bite of my whole face.  Think of the circus guys putting their heads into the lion’s mouth, but with it being the Lion’s idea.  Dammit!  Mamma finally stepped into the fight, took Dirty Rotten Kitty and Chef Doggie Dog, and put them away.  Know what she said?

I’m the Alpha, Beyotch.  Never forget that.

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.

WTF?

First, they tell me I’m going for a ride in the car — a very good thing.  Sometimes Mamma puts me in the convertible with her, although she often just sticks me in the back of the big red car.

She says I’m going to learn something.  I’m going to get tutored.  I was so excited:  what would I learn?  A new language?  How to convince the cat to come hang out with me?  more methods for gathering socks?  I think I wagged my tail in anticipation for the whole ride.  Maybe I’d be tutored on running faster or effective trash-can decimation.

Once there, my friends Lydia, Steph, Nicole and Summer all hugged me and petted me and  took me around back where the other doggies are.  Dr. K arrived and smiled and I went to sleep.

When I woke up, it was like any other wakeup except they gave me some food and took me outside.  Then Mamma came to get me and held me the whole way home.

It was great to see that all my stuff was still around, and Jean-Luc didn’t beat me up this time.  I was outside chasing my tail when I tripped and fell onto my side, and wiggling to get up I noticed them.  Or, what used to be them.

THEY’RE GONE!!!  I was just getting to know them,and now they’re gone ::sob::  Where are they?  Why did they take them?  I miss them.  What am I going to do without them? No one will make jokes about if they were me, they’d never leave their house.  I won’t have anything to lick.  Jean-luc says that the upside is, I got less to protect, and I’ll sleep more.

I dunno.

Dammit.

Wow.  The only thing worse than a centipede with athlete’s foot, is a basset hound with an ear infection.  Luckily, I don’t have one of those — but my right eye is all droopy or, as my Mamma calles it, “hinky.”  I’m scheduled for what they keep calling “having my doghood removed” tomorrow, but this may get me out of it.  Love the Vet, love the hospital smells,  but the food stinks and the way Jean-Luc is smirking at me, I know that this “tutoring” isn’t going to make me  a smarter dog.