Oh man, you guys. My mom’s gone crazy. First, she woke up super early today. Today’s the day she usually tries to wake up, then I jump into bed and trick her into sleeping more. It’s kind of my thing. But no. She gets up early, and her and dad leave right away. Without even taking me and brother out. Can you believe that? I think there’s some puppy protection services I’m supposed to call for stuff like that. Then, she’s gone forever, because I can’t tell time, and she brings back this monster vacuum that smells like soap.
I hate vacuums.
And car rides, but that has nothing to do with anything.
So I finally get to go out, so I scrap calling the feds on her. That and they’ve never gotten me the cell phone they keep promising me.
Then she goes crazy. Seriously crazy. She starts moving things around, vacuuming, vacuuming again, pulling off the little hose thing and vaccuuming again. She’s literally lost her mind. Usually I hide in the bedroom, but she keeps moving around so much I think the only safe spot would be the closet. And I don’t have thumbs, so I have no hope of opening that door. So I tough it out, and just when I think its over, she does it all over again with the stupid soapy vacuum. And THEN I’m not allowed to walk anywhere, because the ground is all wet and soapy and gross. And she yells at me when I try to roll around and fix it and make it smell like me again. The nerve. She’s the one who messed it up. I call bullshit. Erm. Bullcrap. (She doesn’t like it when I swear. She says I’m too young, cause I’m going to be six. But I saw this thing on TV where it said dogs get seven years for every human one? So really, I’m like 42. So I’m older than her. And I think she’s too young to swear. Neener neener.)
Then bitch comes at ME with soap. I hate soap. I work really hard to smell this good, and soap just makes me smell like coconut. I don’t really know what a coconut is, but I do know my soap does not taste good so I have no idea why people think it’s food. And of course, I have to take a bath first because my brother is afraid of the bathtub and he always gets a pass and gets to go last. Like he’s special or something. Newsflash, mom. I hate it too. Then she doesn’t even give me a cookie afterwards. I always get a cookie. She claims we’re out, by I know she’s lying and probably keeping them for herself.
This is literally the worst day of my life.
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Oh, Kobe. I don’t have the heart to tell you that in three days time I’m going to stick you in a car for 23 hours of driving over two days. Please don’t throw up.