I don't know what's the matter with me. It's like I'm happy and mad at the same time. I do stuff that I KNOW will get me yelled at and still I can't help it. Like the trash under Mom's desk. Or going through her purse when she wasn't looking. I guess maybe my feelings are still a bit hurt from being left for THREE whole days and nights. Actually FOUR days and THREE nights. And with store bought canned (ugh) DOG FOOD. Blegh.
Mom thinks maybe I didn't even poop while she was gone because I was sure full of it yesterday. And this morning. Actually, I was rather proud of myself. I could have given a Great Dane a run for his money. But that's gross and unladylike to even mention it. Sorry! (sigh)
The cats are back. They probably never left and just figured maybe I was the one who got kicked out of MY backyard. Walking along...make that STRUTTING... along the edge of the block wall, heads held up high, and tails waving like flag poles. The NERVE, I say. And so I did say. Over and over and over, and finally Mom even said the "S" word. You know? "SHUT UP, MARY-MARGARET!!". You think that stopped MEEEEE?? Nope.
Finally, I saw her lower her eyebrows and start to charge at me, so I beat a path out of the kitchen and high tailed it upstairs. But it felt good, and at least the cats didn't ignore me totally. And I DID get out one time to chase them over the fence and you'd think the world had come to an end just because I didn't feel like going back in the house when MY MOTHER called me. I do NOT have to do something if I don't WANT to. There. That's what it's all about. I am alpha dog no matter what SHE thinks. I am the boss of MEEEE! Do I have attitude or what?
I think maybe I'd better let Mom off the hook pretty soon. I think she's starting to get really mad at me. She even called me a "brat dog" to my Grand Papa George. You think she'd really get REALLY mad at me? I wonder. Scary thought!
Love, Mary-Margaret "Brat Dog" O'Brien
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