Who's that girl?
I didn't write my blog yesterday because I went shopping. A girl has to shop. My claws were a fright after all this keying too. So I had them seen to as well.
So where was I? Oh yes, the old guy went away without taking me home and I was a bit miffed about that. Am I not pretty enough? Was it something I said?
That night was pretty miserable. I had boasted to the other dogs that I was out of there. Some of them let me know how wrong I was, especially the boofhead breeds like the Stafford-shires and the bull terriers, who had little or no hope of finding a home except with some knucklehead. Others like Mr Bo Jangles comforted me. They knew the pain rejection causes.
The next day things got better - the old guy came back. This time he had a lady with him. She looked pretty foxy, just like me. We went into the meeting pen and she squealed with delight when she saw me - at last someone who appreciates class. We were friends immediately. I decided playing the demure lost damsel was the best approach. It looked like she had the final say.
I was sure to let all the other dogs know that the lady was mine. The lady seemed to agree:
There was still the gentleman to convince. Most humans don't know but dogs, especially foxy ones like me, practice a form of mind control. That is how we get the humans to do what we want. Otherwise we'd probably all starve.
I put a strong telepathic lock on the gentleman by aligning our heads so:
And it worked! The poor fellow never really stood a chance against my doggy mind powers. Soon we were signing the paperwork and on our way home - after a short stop at the gift shop to pick up all my favorite items, like a fluorescent pink lead so everyone knows what a fabulous foxy young lady I am!
So where was I? Oh yes, the old guy went away without taking me home and I was a bit miffed about that. Am I not pretty enough? Was it something I said?
That night was pretty miserable. I had boasted to the other dogs that I was out of there. Some of them let me know how wrong I was, especially the boofhead breeds like the Stafford-shires and the bull terriers, who had little or no hope of finding a home except with some knucklehead. Others like Mr Bo Jangles comforted me. They knew the pain rejection causes.
The next day things got better - the old guy came back. This time he had a lady with him. She looked pretty foxy, just like me. We went into the meeting pen and she squealed with delight when she saw me - at last someone who appreciates class. We were friends immediately. I decided playing the demure lost damsel was the best approach. It looked like she had the final say.
I was sure to let all the other dogs know that the lady was mine. The lady seemed to agree:
There was still the gentleman to convince. Most humans don't know but dogs, especially foxy ones like me, practice a form of mind control. That is how we get the humans to do what we want. Otherwise we'd probably all starve.
I put a strong telepathic lock on the gentleman by aligning our heads so:
And it worked! The poor fellow never really stood a chance against my doggy mind powers. Soon we were signing the paperwork and on our way home - after a short stop at the gift shop to pick up all my favorite items, like a fluorescent pink lead so everyone knows what a fabulous foxy young lady I am!
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