I keep telling my mommy to post stories about me on the blog thingy, because I find myself highly entertaining and I'm sure you do too. But she says she's busy, and I am decidedly not busy, so I thought maybe I could help.
First, I would like to clear up what may be some, shall we say, misinformation.
I am not as dumb as a tree. Well, not as dumb as the trees in my yard. I can't speak for all trees.
I have proven myself at least somewhat mechanically inclined, I think. I can get into anything. (Well, I could until that padlock showed up, but give me time.) In fact, I can't believe that I was the first to think of the refrigerator as a destination for all things happy. These other dogs were content not to get into the refrigerator, not to get into the dog food, the cupboards, the garbage, the medicine cabinets? I just call that lazy, because they sure do come running as soon as I get the dog food bin open. I also find that it's great fun to watch my mommy closely, so I can see when she puts something in a cupboard. I keep very good records, which come in handy when she's gone away!
I will acknowledge that I may not get all the social cues. How would I know that it is not considered good etiquette to sit on someone uninvited, whether person or dog? I come from another country, let's not forget. Maybe it's cultural. Or maybe it has to do with the fact that my butt is way too far away from my head for me to really know where it decides to sit. Either way.
And I don't see how it ends up being my fault when Petunia goes postal. What, because I sit on her? Because I won't take a polite "no" for an answer? Because when she really gets fed up with me and snaps at me, I pounce on her like a 145-lb kitten on a ball of yarn? I just want to be friends! Boy, she can be grouchy.
I don't think I'm a very good fighter. I only want to play that Pouncing-on-Petunia game until Petunia bites me and tells me to step off. Then I don't want to play anymore. But by then, everyone else is pouncing and biting too. Well, that's not the game I was trying to start, but it's hard to get out from under it, and it makes my mommy scream so loud, even I can hear her! Sometimes she shoots water at us to make us stop, which is sort of funny. And wet.
Which brings me to my mommy. Man, she is KISSY. I mean, you have no idea. I have never seen this kind of kissy, and I've had two other mommies. She makes these dancey-wiggly fingers at me when she's about to grab my head and start kissing, and I just have to brace myself. (I secretly love it, but I pull away sometimes, just to remind her that I'm not a baby.) I talked to Peroguey, who also used to have a different mommy, and she agrees, this amount of kissing is unheard of.
She (my mommy) is also really picky, like a mama monkey. There could not be a tick on me for more than 30 seconds before she would find it. I guess that's a good thing. No ticks!
What I think is so cool about her--aside from the grabby/kissy/picky stuff--is that she totally understands what I'm saying, and I totally understand her too, even though I can't hear her! I think that must be some kind of magic. Because even if I could hear her or say something to her, I speak French! This also seems to mean that she can tell when I'm about to get into trouble, though, so I guess that's kind of annoying. And it means that I can't deny that I realize hands-on-hips and stamping feet mean, "Baaaaaad Phoebe."
But she's definitely the best mommy in the whole world to have. She tells me sometimes that it's a good thing she found me, or else I'd be on at least my sixth family by now. I think that might be true, because the refrigerator/cupboard/dog food/garbage/medicine cabinet raiding seems to be far less popular with humans than it is with the other dogs.
She also gives the best ear scratches you could imagine. She should be a doggie ear-masseuse or something. But I don't want to bring that up because she's always telling us that we need to get jobs. That is clearly crazy talk, but I don't think I should suggest that she get a second one.
Anyway, I'm awfully glad I found her, even if she comes with Petunia. And a padlock.
In conclusion, I'm not as dumb as a tree.
Unless maybe she means socially. But when was the last time you met a socially adept tree?
Oh, wait.
