Woof Humor

The Seventieth Complaint

Maybe it really seems like I grumble too much. Like I make a huge deal about the most random stuff on the planet. But THIS time, they’ve crossed the line. Like, COMPLETELY. And, for once, it TOTALLY isn’t my fault.

I was cruising around the hall, waiting for Mum to dish me out my usual lunchtime food quota when I happened to overhear Dad distinctly mention the words “Dog Kennel.” And we ALL know what THAT means.

Faster than one can say “Red Lorry, Blue Lorry” seven times without fumbling [which, I admit, isn’t that fast], I raced to where my father was standing and patiently awaited for him to continue his conversation with his buddy who came to stay for a couple days.

Alas I was too late, because as soon as I reached, Dad’s phone started buzzing which lead to him chatting on his mobile for the next four point thirty four minutes.

So I scuttled the HECK out of there, located the nearest electronic device, -that wasn’t either locked, shut off or had a password- and began blogging as fat as my paws could handle.

Do YOU think they’re secretly planning to ship me off to a KENNEL?? I’ve had a few cousins spend the night there, and by the way they describe the “toilet situation” I don’t think it’s gonna’ be pretty.



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