Unforgivable

Some things are unforgivable.  Some things you just can’t get over.  A simple sorry doesn’t cut it.

I believed her when she said, “Oh just a little trim, Merlot.  A snip here, a snip there.  Tidy up the fur around your paws.”

My mother is a big fat liar.

When I sat down with the stylist at daycare, I said “How do we feel about bangs?  Do you think they would work?  Now remember, just a little off the tips.  Maybe some Ombre highlights?”

The traitor.  She needs to be fired.  Yesterday.

I LOOK LIKE A BOY DOG.  Oh, the inhumanity of it all (Yes, I know I’m a canine and I technically don’t have any humanity but are we really going to quibble over semantics when I’m SUFFERING HERE???).

AND THEN, my mother had the nerve to say, “Hair grows back, why are you making such a big deal?”  Easy for her to say, no one went Edward Scissorhands on her head.

Now there's a thought.

A Holiday Of Some Kind Just Passed

It involved the really short humans I sometimes see in the elevator with their Mamas and Papas.  Except they didn't quite look like themselves.  It definitely smelled like them though . . . soap, dirt, and crayons. 

They kept knocking on the door when I was working on my siesta.  They seemed to want something from me but I'm not quite sure what.  It got a bit tiresome after a while, so I texted my Mama while she was working:

Don't worry, I ran off the weird, short people.  They won't be back again. You're welcome.

 For some reason, Mama did not appreciate my efforts.

The Day I Almost Wasn't

Or the day I had near-death experience #451.

My Papa (ahem, my Mama was in Miami visiting my cousins but that is a woeful story for another day) took me out for my walk post-breakfast so I could take care of "business."  And it was stinky business, let me tell you.  Anyways, everything went routine in that department, and my Papa scooped it and walked me back to the elevators.

And this is where it all went downhill.  Almost literally.

We get in the elevator, Papa pushes the button, we start to rise and then . . . a sudden jerk!

We come to a complete stand-still between floor 11 and 12.  With my puppy heart beating wildly, I look at my Papa but he looks unruffled.  He takes out an electronic gadget, hits some buttons and puts it next to his ear.  Little did he know that with my superior canine senses, I knew we were in real danger.

Together we sit on the floor and he rubs my belly, which was nice but then I hear noises.  People were trying to break into the elevator! 

We're going to fall!!!  MAYDAY MAYDAY!

Meanwhile, Papa is petting me, saying, "It's going to be okay, little Merlot."

And then!  AND THEN!  We started moving again!  UPWARDS!

And we survived.

But it was very close there for a couple of minutes. 

I know you are relieved that Merlot lived to tell the tale.  You don't know how happy I am too.

I Hate Rain

My fur and paws get wet, and I am not a happy puppy. I'm pretty cute but the wet look? Not a good look for me.

Mama got me a raincoat but I told her I only wear fur coats and she called me a diva.

Then I said, "Like Mother, like daughter! . . . Should we take a cab?"

And she said yes. Diva, my butt.

The Good Thing About Being a Puppy?

Is I don't have to apologize for being a busy doggie!  Just one more reason why canines > humans.

So in the most recent  news, I have been kicked off the humans' bed at night and apparently all other times as well.  As in, I have to sleep on the floor like a dog!  Oh, the inhumanity of it all.  Why did this happen?  There was a slight problem with an upset stomach and a bedspread and all of a sudden, Bam!  I'm like Merlot the Leper around these parts.  Even cute face #417 didn't work on the man.  And all my cute faces always work on the man.

Don't worry.  I'm plotting.  This situation will soon be rectified.  Roughing it for a long period of time is not in the cards for me, I assure you.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

The male human places my bowl in front of me with the dry cereal this morning.  I look at him, "Did you forget something?  There's no chicken!  Or even carrots!  How am I supposed to eat this?"

Is this an April Fool's trick?

Because it's not funny.

Boarding

In spite of my advanced intelligence, I am a dog and sometimes nuanced human behavior escapes me.  When I'm dropped off for doggy daycare, I always assume it's for the day and one of the humans will come back when it's dark to pick me up so I can pass out on the couch like I've had way too many glasses of wine.  Sometimes it gets dark and my humans don't come, so then I assume it was Papa's turn to pick me up.  It might be very dark outside, but he always comes.  When I wasn't picked up before it was time to sleep, I knew I was here for the long haul.

Puppy Sleepover!  Being surrounded by jet-setting Manhattanites, I can always count on at least 2 other puppies being boarded for the weekend.  Shenanigans galore!  Wait, did you think I was going to tell you what happened at doggy daycare???  You know what they say, "What happens at doggy daycare stays at doggy daycare!"

Just kidding!  Stories coming soon . . .

I'm not bitter that I get left behind nearly ALL the time.  Why, do I sound bitter?  I'm too young to be bitter.  I just get revenge.  "Oh, I'm sorry Mama, were you a fan of those shiny black leather heels that now have my teethmarks?"  :: Cue evil puppy laugh ::