PITA?

I have been a bad dog blogger. I don't know what is wrong with me. Perhaps my obssession with The Orange One's manuevers? No one can make me as mad as Orange Effer does! No one. He came by my sliding glass door, stopped, and lingered for a moment, and made eye contact with me before darting off. He is a brazen fool!

I am up to Stage 3 on the glucosamine joint tablets. I feel like they are helping me, but WHO makes cherry flavored anything for dogs? They taste like, ugh, I cannot stand them. Brad makes me eat them. Next bottle, he promises will be something more palatable, like liver, cow ass, or chicken lips, anything but cherry. Blech!

This morning, Julie said I was a PITA. Perfect, intelligent, talented, animal? Why thank you! Heh heh. Actually, I think she meant, well, I'll let you figure it out. She was up early for work, got called off, so she stayed up. I took advantage of the opportunity. I wanted outside. I barked like I saw satan in the backyard. I wanted inside. I barked at her for a treat. Then I wanted my water bowl refreshed, so I panted like I had just run a marathon, next I needed food. Let me outside again! I needed to poop. Barked for a treat when I was back inside. She ignored me. She got her toast and coffee and sat down. Well, I needed to poop again, so let me out! Barked at her for a treat, and, again, I was ignored and told to go lie down. When Julie tells me to do that, she has had enough!

At least I know my boundaries. Unlike certain orange felines around here.