Hunger Strike

I have been on a bit of a hunger strike lately. Not that you can see my ribs or anything, but I have lost a few pounds. You see, all of my life I have had it made. I have been the head honcho around here. I get up. I get water, and fresh food, and a daily walk. I lounge around, nap, and keep an eye out for any effers who might dare to lay seige on this house. When I bitch-and-moan about any issues, Brad and Julie have always seen to it that I am made as comfortable as possible.

Until this past year. These children have made my life extremely stressful. They look at me and laugh. They point and coo, and say, "doggy" like I am some sort of circus side-show for them, and not an equal part of the family. I have news for them, I was here first dammit!

So back to the hunger strike. Yes, I have refused to eat the dog crap, I mean food they put in front of me. I refuse. I would not even eat it when Brad tried to hand feed it to me. So what did Brad do to my surpise? He went and bought me some wet food. Good heavens did it taste like a Thanksgiving feast to my hungry belly!

You could say I was acting like a spoiled brat, holding his breath until he got his way, but it is what it is, and I did get my way. I guess it pays off to eat only three bowls of dry food in two weeks.

I can't wait for dinner!