Oh, darn, did I give myself away with my dog jargon? Man! I'm so bad at staying undercover.
Guys, this is actually Scout.
You remember me right? I'm Melissa's "favorite" dog.
Hey, I'm not under any delusion that this is a good picture of me. Not a great angle - obviously - and according to Dr. Wood, I could stand to lose a pound or twelve because my mom decided to take the entire month of December off walking me in the morning and I may or may not have gained some holiday fluff. Those cheesballs with all the pecans on the outside are my absolute fav.
Anyway, this post is certainly gonna be cheery because Christmas was AWESOME and life has NEVER been better.
Can you read the sarcasm in my paw-typing. Seriously, are you impressed that I can work this kind of blog magic without opposible thumbs.
At least that makes someone. You see, a couple of days before Christmas, Santa texted my dad with some kind of crazy S.O.S. message. It went something like, "I need your help...B.P. Oil Spill got us behind...blah...blah...blah...I have something special for Olivia and you need to go pick it up."
Maybe it should have read something like, "I hate Scout and I want to make her life miserable." because that's what ol' St. Nick has done. I actually used to like the guy when he was bringing me big bones with bows and soft beds. Now, he's dead to me.
Wanna know why? One word. Tucker. He brought us Tucker.
A little bitty speck of a dog who has turned my apple-cart all kinds of upside down.
1. He's all small and stuff and I can barely see him so I almost step on him 'cause he darts around underneith my feet. The thought of him squishing under my paws gives me the heebie-jeebies and makes me all jumpy.
2. He's all friendly and naive to the dog-world ways. Dude, stay out of my kennel and don't go near my food...or my couch. Especially my food. And my couch.
3. My mom and I used to have this sweet time in the morning where she would get her coffee, sit on my couch, and pet me real nice-like. I loved it but now, Taco (as I like to call him) is always curled up on her lap. THAT IS MY LAP even though I don't fit on it anymore because I'm all fat and actual dog-size.Anyway, I'm not saying I'm proud of myself but I'm doing my best to work through my anger/resentment/jealousy. Last night, I worked through some of it with a nice helping of trash-food that I spilled all over the floor while everybody slept. Which is also why I'm fat. It's a vicious cycle.
My mom and dad are going to the Cotton Bowl tomorrow night even though, besides her, I'm the only other person in the house who will cheer for Texas A&M. I know I just called myself a person. Leave it alone. I'm in crisis.
So, while they're gone, I may just cheer for LSU to spite her. And growl at Tucker real, real, mean like. And eat the food right out of his food bowl. And not even care about the calories.