A new family moved in down the street so Sparky and I went to check things out. It was early but the vetting process never sleeps. The new people were unloading their Subaru when we got there. I sat at the foot of their driveway and waited for them to acknowledge my presence. Newsflash puppies: It’s called patience. Try it sometime. Stop wagging your whole bodies every time something new happens. Don’t get me started. Sparky forgot that I told him not to and started peeing on different spots of the lawn. That’s when two Weimaraners—one male, one female, both juveniles—climbed out of the Subaru’s backseat. The guy walked over to Sparky and said, “Yo, I’m Brax, this is my sister Gwen. We think it was really cool what you did back there.” “Peeing on the grass?” asked Sparky. “Thanks! I do it all the time.” “Yeah, it’s like why behave a certain way just because pup culture expects you to, you know?” said Brax. Then the one named Gwen said, “Everything is like so unoriginal, am I right?” I had no idea what they were talking about but could tell all the words were confusing Sparky. I approached to make my formal introduction. “Greetings,” I said, “my name is Mortimer Baxter. This is my pal Sparky. On behalf of the Baxter family, welcome to Lake View Terrace.” The one named Brax sat down casually and said, “Cool vintage collar man, where’d you buy it?”
Happy BIRTHDAY CHUNKY!!!This birthday boy deserves every lick of his cake. Put your paws together for our favorite @bigchunkymonkey and his St. Patrick's birthday!
Morty Exposes The Industrial Chew Toy Complex
If humans got one thing right, it’s the IRS. Wonderful profession. More of a calling than a job really. If I understand Mr. Baxter correctly, it’s an entire agency that sneaks around making sure everybody else is on the up and up. Newsflash puppies: That’s what I do everyday—have been for the better part of a decade. Don’t get me started. Of course sometimes I don’t know why I bother. Most puppies are hopeless. It’s all entitlement and excess with these goofballs. Doggles®? Are you serious!? Ha! I can see fine without “stylish protective eyeware” thank you very much. Who comes up with this junk? When I was a puppy I had one tennis ball. One. Kept it for three years and it wasn’t even new to begin with. That’s how we did things back then. Don’t get me started. Did I complain? Heck no! I was grateful and took damn good care of my belonging—dropped it in my water bucket every now and then, kept it clean as best I could. No telling when I’d get another one if God forbid something happened to it. Of course that was all before the meteoric rise of the Chew Toy Industrial Complex. That’s right puppies, I’m talking about a shadow pack of elites—probably Huskies—who control everything. But don’t expect to read about it in The Droolitzer, I’m pretty sure Bogie is in on their mainstream agenda. Canine social engineering and whatnot. Newsflash puppies: life’s not all biscuits and belly rubs. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. And whatever happened to carefully burying your bones for a rainy day? Lemme guess? You don’t wanna get your wittle paws durtie. Ha! Anyway, who’s funding this surplus of assets in the canine community? That’s what I want to know. Half these puppies are underemployed at best. Unbelievable. Which remind me of the time…