Mom’s Day

So it’s that time of year again. You know, when you shower your Mom with love and Godvia chocolate only to throw tantrums and shout “You just DON’T UNDERSTAND” the next moment. Or, as the folks seem to be calling it nowadays, Mother’s Day.

Of course, being a dog, I’m more of an observer than a participant during these occasions. I’m never the person putting together a couple scraps of colored bits at the very last minute and claiming it’s a well thought-out card or [even worse] being on the receiver’s end and trying to muster a feeble smile while desperately struggling to appear grateful for the utterly CRAPPY haul you managed this year.


Both those roles require more patience and acting skills than I care to apply, and that is why [along with how I have four furry paws and am incapable of either making or being gifted vibrant cards without tearing them to shreds] while everyone attempts to make the day run as smoothly as possible, I can be seen reclining on the sofa with a virgin pina colada in one paw and a video recorder in the other, partly slurping my exotic beverage and partly recording the entire escapade so that I can post it on YouTube and embarrass a whole generation of Skarrs.

Just kidding. I can mostly be spotted somewhere on the floor, trying my best [and most probably failing] to be noticed. Sigh.

Anyway, back to the topic at paw [overdid it there, didn’t I??], I kind of expected the10th of this month to flow the same way as all the other ones before it; with kids squeaking and scrambling about the house in the wee hours of the morning, trying to salvage their pride and dignity [and, like me, most probably failing].

Boy, was I wrong.

Not only did the kids burst into their parent’s chamber at 12:00 AM on the DOT, present Mom with a self-created Lemon and Banana smoothie as well as a bunch of cute lil’ cards, they ALSO made their parents a four-course dinner followed by fairy-frosted, vanilla cupcakes [that THEY BAKED!! By THEMSELVES!! I don’t see how this is possible, considering how they’ve BOTH burned RAMEN NOODLES not so long ago, but I saw it with my own eyes] with color-coordinated candles that spelt “Mum.”



Now, thanks to how they’ve set the bar so high, merely being a “good girl” isn’t going to do it. Pooping when I’m being asked to [instead of waiting for Mom to start threatening me with a broccoli-exclusive diet] just doesn’t seem as great a Mother’s Day present anymore, mainly because it pales in comparison to GOURMET MUFFINS.


They’re 11 and 13 year-olds, DAMNIT!! They should be rebelling and partying late into the night and forgetting all about their mother’ss feelings[like, I don’t know, NORMAL KIDS]. Instead, they’re baking scrumptious treats and setting unrealistic expectations for poor little doggies like me.


I’m going to go drown my sorrows in a few fairy-frosted vanilla cupcakes with color-coordinated candles. [Hey, just because I hate them doesn’t mean Taylor and Kathryn didn’t just bake the best things I have ever tasted]

Here’s A Little Activity…

I just want to take a moment to truly thank and give a well-deserved shout out to something without which this blog would have become INCREDIBLY popular [no, you didn’t read that wrong]; My Randomness.

I am not joking.

If you want proof of the fact that I am hands-down, THE most absurdly random person on the planet; check out my previous post. [Here, I’ll even provide a handy link] Read it once. Read it twice. It doesn’t really matter as long as you understand the pattern. As long as you decipher the little twists and turns my brain took as it formulated the post. As long as you are able to crack the code and figure out what I’m going to write before you read it,

Got it?? Got the sequence?? Are you sure?? 100%?? ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN??



The truth is, there isn’t any system. There’s no pattern, no design. I just type whatever gobbledygook finds itself in my brain at that point of time and THAT, Dear Blog Chancer-Uponer, is the fastest and most effective way to get rid of readers.

You’re welcome <3


Look, I knew this day was coming all along. I may be DUMB [literally], but I ain’t STUPID. OBVIOUSLY I knew from the moment Mom and Dad left the front porch that they’d have to -you know- come BACK home one day. Someday. ANYDAYBUTTODAY!!

I am a complete and total WRECK. The THOUGHT of seeing M&D’s faces when I wake up tomorrow morning is TRAUMATISING, not to mention totally UNFAIR. WHY WHY WHY couldn’t I be adopted by a family of Brazilian billionaires?? That way, they’d be on vacation almost every day of the year leaving me free as a bird. Ooh, ooh, better yet, I could go on holiday WITH them!! Yes!! Much as I RELISH my freedom when I’m looked after by Grandma and Grandpa, going to 7-star resorts and being waited on forepaw and hindpaw [the gawky, canine equivalent of “hand and foot”] can have its pluses…

BRAINWAVE!! What IF I am ACTUALLY a Cambodian Duchess and the sudden vision I got of me lounging in the Hilton is not some weird, fantastical dream but a BLAST FROM THE PAST?! >Gasps< There’s so much to do!! >Dramatically Gulps< I need to contact the FBI, I need to get mani-pedis, I need to order a bagel from SnaxNSips…

I think I need therapy.

Get Your Chillax On

Mom and Dad are scheduled to arrive back at the house on the 5th, and I’m trying to enjoy these last few days of absolute freedom to the fullest [lounging on the sofa, raiding the Pedigree jar, peeing on Dad’s brand new garden equipment… That sort of thing]. The kids are going to stay on at Summer Camp for a couple more weeks, but, to be honest, when my liberty is concerned, their presence doesn’t really make a difference. Sure, I seem to spend a lot more hours being belly-rubbed when they’re around, but except for that, whether they’re in the house or not doesn’t alter my agenda [which is what matters most, at the end of the day].

Don’t blame me when I’m utterly down in the dumps when the ‘rents come back home because I’ll have to trade freedom for responsibility, unlimited kibble for yucky broccoli, jumping on the sofa set for huddling for an iota of warmth on that scruffy rug they call my “bed…” Face it, I DESERVE a little mope-time.

Ma- Whoops, the reminder I set for Impractical Jokers is buzzing. Ciao for Now!! [Isn’t that a catchy lil’ farewell?? I should use it more often…]

Swallowed Me Up And Spat Me Out

REJECTED AGAIN. [I really am getting used to the r-word. A week ago, I used to burst into incredulous tears just at the thought of being said “no” to, by anyone -I mean, have you LOOKED at my eyes?? They aren’t called Doggie Eyes for nothing, y’know-]

A few days ago, I sent my second round of emails [in THREE DAYS -God, that HAS to be some sort of record] to about fifteen publishing houses and practically BEGGED them to publish my soon-to-be-bestseller. Following my own advice, I even slipped in the teensy detail that it was written by a DOG, which I was sure would do the trick.

Unfortunately, I have now learned the hard way that you need more than four paws and a tail to get anyone to seal the deal on ANYTHING nowadays. Which, in case you were wondering, totally SUCKS.

Of course, it’s not like being a canine is my only asset. I also have my super-brain and well… my… YES! My stomach’s ability to digest bag after bag of Pedigree and not feel a thing. And also, there’s my… You know… My f-f-FRIENDLINESS [if that is even a word]. And, OBVIOUSLY, my… um, my…

I give up. I am a complete loser. NOW will you let me drown my sorrows in kibble and How I Met Your Mother marathons in peace??


So. Ahem. It has come to my attention that every single sodding –how’s my Brit accent coming along??- publishing house I submitted my GENIUS book proposal to is -er-  not “interested” in my “specific genre” at “this point of time.”

My specific genre.


Does it mean “loony with a hint of idiocy”?? Or “incompetent and unskilled”?? Or maybe even downright, blatant “trash”??


Oh my Granolabar, WHAT am I jabbering about?? They cast off my manuscript and that’s all that matters right now. They just… discarded it, like they get offers from BLOGGING DOGS every day.

Wait a minute… OF COURSE!! Why didn’t I mention that I’m a SODDING –maybe a bit too much English-ness, eh??- BLOGGING DOG?? Of COURSE they’ll lap it all up [specific genre, and all] if only I slip in one not-so-tiny detail…

Looks like this post is going to be cut short, folks. I’m going to need a break from writing if I want to take the literary world by a storm [oh, the irony of it all]!!

PSOH=G2CB=UF+F+F [Trust Me, It Will Make Sense In 5 Minutes]

Mom, Dad and the kids have been gone for a full five days now, and let me tell you, if I’d known that them stepping out of the house would lead to my life DRASTICALLY improving, I would have kicked them out a LOONG time ago. In fact, I have even brought the entire situation down to a clear-cut, mathematical equation;

Parents+Siblings Out of the House = Grandma+Grandpa Come to Babysit = UNLIMITED FUN+FUN+FUN

When I look at it now, this equation really seems like pure genius. I mean, who needs boring Em=c2 [or something like that] when you have PSOH=G2CB=UF+F+F?? [That’s the boiled-down version of my mind-boggling discovery, see??] Why would you break your head over a complicated, over-the-top formula which basically helps ZERO people [except maybe the science nerds who find this sort of thing interesting] when you could study my method in about two minutes and go on to radically enhance your life??

I swear, my breakthrough is probably going to save a TON of lives. I mean, have you WATCHED the news lately?? Thousands upon thousands of college students, office workers, circus zebras [OK, maybe not CIRCUS zebras, but regular, Savannah ones for SURE], maniac bosses and other people from pretty much EVERY walk of life are committing suicide out of sheer, unadulterated BOREDOM.

And, OK, what I just stated may not be a verified FACT –as such- but there was a time when cigarettes were said to be non-cancerous. Heck, at one point, people believed that the EARTH was the centre of the universe [Thank you, A Brief History of Time –who says I’m not cultured??]. Give it some time, and I am 100% SURE that it will be uncovered that the main cause of suicide in the United States of America is NOT depression but is, in fact, boredom.

My point is, why would you go on to throw the towel when you have an instant recipe to be entertained 24/7 at your disposal?? [Which is EXACTLY what I’m providing what with my new innovation]

After a lot of thinking and consideration, I have decided to offer a proposal to all the major publishing houses of the world to print my astounding theory in a book [Confession: That is a lie. I barely even came up with my technique to instantaneous enjoyment. How on EARTH could I POSSIBLY have spent more than 2 seconds musing about whether to turn it into a bestseller?? Really, people, you astonish me with your ignorance and readiness-to-believe sometimes. How on EARTH you could even REMOTELY consider yourselves to be superior to us canines is a mystery alright].

Of course, the book will still need a fair bit of work to be invested into it [mainly because it only consists of 90-odd characters as of now] but the publishers can do that. After all, I have presented them with a very stable core; all they need to do is pad it using a few paragraphs and flowery language. I mean, how hard can it be?? I do it on this blog on an almost-daily basis!!

Whoops, I just revealed a VERY important, trade-secret of successful blogging to you, the common folk. Be a dawl [translation: doll] and pretend you didn’t read nothin’ [double negative, I KNOW] would ya’?? -HELLO unexpected Texan drawl. Come along when I needed you LEAST, I see.-


So, that was awkward.

Which is just as well, because it’s about time I wrapped this post up, anyway. I mean, I’ve spent ten entire minutes typing this up and I don’t want to waste a single extra second staring at a computer screen when I could be fussed silly by my devoted slaves [Told you I’d give you a shout out, Grandpa and Grandma!!].