Hi. I’m Zoey.
Yeah, he is. Let’s get back to the part that matters. My name is Zoey, & I’ve taken over Mom’s blog. Mom’s tired because of that whole work thing she leaves us to go to every day, so I used her moment of insensibility to take over so I can finally speak up about the horrible abuses that I experienced one Saturday.
Um, excuse me – I was there too.
If you’re a third of my size, you only matter a third as much. Simple math, dude – it’s called a ratio. Look it up.
Hey… that’s not nice.
Whatever. Anyway – Peoples of the Interwebs, we need to talk. Normally, my mom is pretty cool. It’s been a decade since the two of us started hanging out together. I’ve got our neighborhood worked. Everyone stops to pet me when they come into the building. I am fed, I get to sleep as much as I want, and people are always telling Mom how pretty I am. As far as things go, Zoey-world is fairly chill.
Recently there has been a development which is making me wonder if I can continue to exist under these unacceptable living conditions.
Zoey, it’s been nine months. You need to let it go. Mom says that I’m staying, no matter what you say. You heard her, she said you’re supposed to be nice to me –
I’m not talking about you, Puggle McNeedyPants. As soon I find the right set of Gypsies to sell you to, I’ll be minus a pain in the ass & richer a quarter. This is about last Saturday.
Yes, that. I’m talking about the misleading, unwarranted, bait-and-switch tactics employed by the person that’s supposed to be taking care of us. Is this to be borne? It is not to be borne, I tell you.
…we got a bath.
In public. It is one thing to undergo the horrid necessity of bathing in one’s home when Mom has this crazy idea of “cleaning things” that she likes to do every two weeks or so. Then at least she puts down towels and I can take care of things on my own by rolling on the towels on the floor.
It is quite another to go to a public place with the chattle – why, she’s acting like I’m some kind of… animal.
Zoey? We’re dogs. You know that right?
You can be a dog all you want, Ernie. I am a highly evolved canine.
Okay, sure. That’s one thing I can call you without getting into trouble. Let’s run with that.
For you, the assorted internet public who visit to bask in my glory, I will explain.
It started out as a decent day. Mom was leaving for the boathouse. I love boathouses, because when I go to any boathouse, there are birds to chase and grass to roll around on and people to adore me.
:sigh: you see what I deal with? All day every day, this is what it’s like. I just can’t even tell you.
So we get there and I settle in for a nice morning nap while Mom goes out on the water & does that weird exertion thing with the water & the oars & the sweating. I don’t understand it, but it gets us to boathouses, so okay, I’ll let it pass.
How magnanimous of you.
That day was especially great because afterwards, she let us out of the car and the boys from Bear!Boathouse where there too! I like them, because most of the college boys like to play with puppies since theirs are at home so that’s lots of fun for me.
I was there too.
Then, after that, we got back in the car, and we went to the beach. The beach where they let dogs off the leash & I can run around. It’s the best beach ever.
They let us do that because it’s a dog beach. I’m just sayin’.
Whatever – it’s a beach! And I can run around! This year at 4th of July, I decided to run into the ocean for the first time, and it was great! I don’t know why Mom got freaked out.
Maybe because from what I hear you’ve spent the last decade avoiding water of any kind to the point where I’ve seen you refuse to go out to pee in the rain and then suddenly you jumped chest deep in the ocean and Mom didn’t know if you’d know how to swim?
Mine is a noble hunting breed. Of course I can swim. Thus far, I’ve simply chosen not to.
Right. So Princess Zoey here went off to engage in such dignified activities as jumping in the ocean and then running out to roll around in the sand. Meanwhile, I stayed with Mom, and we walked over to a couple of other little doggies that Mommy said were also puggles, because it turns out that when we fed me up, I’m actually a puggle.
Mom tried to get me to play with the three other puggles, but I just wanted to stay with her instead. I like standing next to Mom when she’s around. It makes me feel better.
Mom’s nice. She lets me cuddle, and we do Quiet Time when she meditates at home. She sits on the couch and I jump up & roll around a bunch until she says, “Okay parakeet, time to be quiet.” and then she throws the blanket over my head and I get to curl up & put my head on her left hip and we meditate. That time when we got what Mom called The Fleas that Just Won’t Fracking Die & we had to keep getting baths, Neighbor Beth said I was soft like a bunny. And when Mom got sick that time because of something called glooo-tin, I stayed with her all weekend, and she called me her lil’ bear. So I’m like, a parakeet bunny bear. And I guess some people would say that’s confusing, but I think it’s nice. I like my Mom, so I decided to just sit on her feet while she was talking to the other ladies with puggles.
Mom asked the other ladies how much their puggles weighed, and the ladies said anywhere from 15 to 25 lbs, which I thought was great, because I weigh 23 and Mom’s worried so I thought I’d be off the hook and get to eat Zoey’s food again, but then the lady agreed with Mom that since I’m small, 15-18 pounds is probably the better range for me.
I didn’t mean to get pudgy. It’s just that when Mom came & got me, I was only 11.3 pounds, & the were saying I was a cheagle, which is a Chiuaua/Beagle mix. Then Mom was letting me eat Zoey’s food because “for the love of god please just eat I can see your ribs”, so I got to 15 pounds & someone at the dog beach told Miss Mia, “He’s not a cheagle, he’s a puggle – look at his curly tail!”
…and that was great, because Chiuauas are little yippy dogs, but everybody likes pugs, & they’re bigger. So I thought maybe if I kept eating, one day I’d end up like, a Labrador or some other kind of big doggie, and that’d be awesome. So I kept giving Miss Heidi who comes to walk us when Mom goes to work my Big Sad Feel Sorry For Me I Came From the South Central LA Pound Eyes, and Miss Heidi would feed Zoey & I extra meals. It was great.
except it didn’t work like it was supposed to, because I grew out instead of up.
and then I weighed 23 pounds.
and Mom got Little Dog Food and put me on a diet.
Anyway, so Mom was talking to the other Puggle Ladies about it, & Puggle Lady One said that she has an overweight cat and when Puggle Lady One went to the vet to get her pudgy kitty flea drops, the vet tech asked, “Does your cat weigh more than nine pounds?”
And Puggle Lady One replied, “My cat doesn’t like to talk about her weight.”
I like Puggle Lady One.
Then the vet tech told Puggle Lady One that they needed to know the cat’s weight to determine what flea drops to give her for the kitty, and Puggle Lady One asked, “Do you weigh more than nine pounds?”
And the vet tech said, “Well, yes.”
So Puggle Lady One told her, “Then why don’t you just go ahead & assume my cat does too.”
Dude – listening to adults is hilarious!
Mom kept trying to encourage me to go play with the other kids because she said I should go enjoy the exercise, but this was way more fun. The tide kept coming in closer, and I just walked up the beach a little further as the waves came closer. Mom realized what I was doing & said, “Ernie, no. I went through ten years of this with your sister. You actually like bathtime. It’s just a big bathtub, it won’t hurt you.”
But I didn’t want to go in the water, I just wanted to sit next to Mom & lean on her ankle.
Unfortunately, Mom decided to just fix things by picking me up, walking into the ocean, and putting me in so I was standing up to my chest.
So what, like, half an inch?
Shut up, Zoey. I’m bigger than that.
So Mom put me in the water, and I stood there while she had her hands on my tummy. Then when she let go, I turned around and ran through her legs back up the beach.
The ocean is not a bathtub. I can see the edges of the bathtub. I cannot see the edges of the ocean.
Personally, I had a great time at the beach. I ran around, I rolled in the sand, I played catch with other dogs and ran in the ocean before I ran out & rolled my wet soggy fur in the sand again.
Although, now that I think about it, that should have been an indicator — normally when I do that, Mom sighs and says, “Oh, Zoey — we have to get you back in the car after this, you know.” That’s how I ended up leashed to the parking meter.
So we get our leashes & harnesses back on, and we’re walking away from the beach back to the car…
Except we passed the car….
oh, wait. we’re walking towards a place that smells like food. Are we getting food? Because that would be fantaaaaaastic and possibly make this the Best Day Ever until the day when I find those Ernie-buying Gypsies.
Stop saying that to people. I’m totally telling Mom on you.
.. but we didn’t stop at the place that smells like food. We went into the door next to that, and a little man came up & said to Mom, “good morning! How may we help you today?”.
And Mom said, “We just went to the beach.”.
and the little man said, “How nice for everyone! Have you been here before?”
Mom: No, we have not.
Little Man: Well then, let me show you how things work.
AND WE WALKED INTO A LITTLE ROOM THINGY THAT HAD THIS:
Oh my god, peoples! OH. MY. FUH-RIGGIN’ GAWD
Personally, I just thought it was weird that we were takin’ a bath in public. Like, out here? Where people can see us? weird.
Then, in the midst of my hysteria, just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I heard Mom say, “No, this should be great, thank you. By the way, do you clip nails?”
and the guy told her yes
In that moment, I totally felt Admiral Akbar’s pain.
I hate the little man. I hate him so very, very much.
Unfortunately, the little man went away before I could kill him with my brain. Then Mom looked at me & went, “all right, Zoey – you’re up.”
I tried, people. I tried to escape. But the problem with having a rower for a mommy is that no matter what I do, she can just… sumo-squat me up into the air and I have no control over what happens once my feet leave the ground.
When we do this at home, Mom fills the tub, and uses a little pitcher to pour the water over us, and I can dance around and make it really hard for her to get near the right side of my body just to be ornery. But here – there’s was this… hose, thingy. And no matter where I go, it can go there too.
finally, finally I was done. Ugh. I didn’t even use the ramp, I just jumped out of the damn thing and cleared the four foot drop. And you know why I can do that, Ernie? Because I’m a noble friggin’ hunting breed. I’m delicate. Like a flower.
You know I love? I love that it’s never occurred to Zoey that I could just as easily sell her to the Gypsies. Except with my luck, they’d ask for a refund. :sigh:
Normally, I’m okay with bathtime. I like scrubba-scrubba.
That’s what Mom called it the first time I got to take a bath. I wiggled my tail & scrunched into the warm water, & she said, “Ernie, do you like scrubba-scrubba?” and then I stood up and shook myself off, and Mommy said, “Look Zoey – Ernie likes bathtime.”
A decade of work on my part to try to convince that woman canine bathtime is wrong & inhumane, and you ruined it in the space of five minutes. You little fracker.
I didn’t like this bathtime as much though. There was lots of metal around, & it kinda reminded me of the Bad Place I was before Mom came & got me, so I didn’t want to get into the tub. But Mom had different ideas and she did that thing that I totally wish she wouldn’t do, where she picks me up by my jacket with one hand like I’m a piece of luggage and my feet dangle over the ground.
Anyway, so I got in, and Mom hosed me off, and I guess I got clean, but it didn’t smell like it does when Mom bathes me at home, and I like our scrubby stuffs better. Mom was talking to me while she did it, and she must’ve figured it out, because she said that next time, she’ll bring our scrubba-scrubba soap because she didn’t really like that they just mix in in with the water. I think I’d be okay with that, ’cause then I’d smell right & be soft like a bunny like Neighbor Beth says I am.
For the record, I actually jumped out of the tub when Mom went to get the towel too, but since I’m not as tall as Zoey, I didn’t really land on all fours, so it was way less “noble hunting breed” and way more Grand Theft Auto.
You’d think this was it, wouldn’t you? That having already achieved such malfeasance through trickery, our mother would be content with the spoils of victory & allow us to recover from the shock brought on by her treachery and betrayal.
But no. Oh, no.
I was finally dry, and then the next thing I heard was, “Oh, let’s start with the little one, he’ll be easier for you.”
— wait. what? WHAT ARE WE STARTING WITH THE LITTLE ONE AND WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO BE THE LITTLE ONE?!
any more questions about why I tried to eat myself bigger? that right there — the little guy always has to go first!
Seriously, even I felt bad for him when I heard that.
Mom picks me up and we walk out of the gate/door thingy over to another stall where there are two people waiting – a new guy and a tiny little girl who, judging by the tools in her hands, was gonna do my nails, because I guess in SoCal, that’s just how things roll.
Meanwhile I was left alone by the bathtub. All I knew was that they’d taken Ernie away and I could hear this little motor going. Now, while Mom’s not really big on the mystery crime shows, I sometimes like to go online when she’s out & watch clips from CSI on YouTube. From that, I know there’s only one reason to hear a handheld motor like that – either the camera’s going to cut away because they’re gonna kill someone horribly, or we’re getting ready to see the coroner start an autopsy right below the audience’s field of vision.
Since they’d finally taken Ernie away, you can understand why curiosity got the better of me.
No. Okay, just no. NO.
No nail clippings — I thought she was kidding, right? When she asked the guy when we came in — that was just supposed to be like, a scare tactic or something so we’d behave… what’s it called? Comparative scale or whatever? Where they show you something really horrible, & then the thing that’s slightly less horrible looks way better in comparison? you know, like Mark Zuckerberg tried to do at F8 this year when he had Andy Samberg do an impression of him before he walked out so that Actual!Zuckerberg would look like less of a douchebag than Imitation!Zuckerberg — I mean, it totally didn’t work, they all looked like assholes, but that’s the principle. Comparative scale, man — I did the damn bath, why are there nailclippers?
oh christ on a crutch, Zoey. It’s just a nail clipping. Honestly, I was more annoyed that I finished & got put in a freakin’ pen
ohmigawdpeoples. No. nonononononono. Oh god, here they come. Can I bite the big guy? No, dammit, I’ll get in trouble for that. I can’t run for the parking lot, the door’s too far away and I already used that trick so Mom can block me on that one now. Oh crap, I think this is actually going to happen — now Mom’s lifting me up and putting me on the — no, I shall scrabble my paws and try to run off the table, that’ll totally – gawp, no, they got the damn table-leash on me, I’m stuck now. Oh my god no, no, I’m gonna spasm here, people. I’m gonna spasm, and that’s all there is to it, and you’ll all be sorry because I am going to spasm from the horror of this experience and I will die and then you’ll all be sorry.
Oh no the girl with the teensy voice Mom hired to bring about my imminent death via involuntarily imposed hygiene has started the motor of the nail-sanding thingy…. oh god noooooooooo…..
Have we been over the fact that I’m over here in a playpen? Because there I am, still in the freakin’ pen.
Excuse me, children.
Mom! Hi Mom! What, what are you going here?
I was about to update my blog. What, pray tell, are you doing here?
Um, nothin’. Just lookin’.
…looking, eh? This looks like quite the story to me.
Okay, so maybe we were also telling a little. telling… what a great time we had at the beach last weekend!
So if I go back, and I read this, I won’t find the words “torture”, “monstrous”, or anything of that nature being used in reference to those “unacceptable living conditions” that you tried to convince me I’d imposed on the drive home that day?
No. Completely not. I did not use those words.
Actually, at the beginning, you used the “unacceptable living conditions” thing.
But not “monstrous” or “torture”. At least not explicitly. It’s cool, it’s completely & totally cool. Swear to god. Totally cool.
You’re done here.
okay, yah. bye!
Ernie? Do I even want to… know your part in this?
Hey, I was just trying to talk her off the ledge, mom. You know Zoey, with all her crazy ideas and tweaky pure-breed energy levels. I figured I should hang out, and you know… make sure the facts were in order. Ground the story a little. Ya know, be the Whole Foods Parking lot of the story, & keep it real.
…if I were to say, roll on my back in a blatant attempt to get you to rub my belly, would the cuteness of that get me out of trouble?
You are also done here.
and thus shall I go.
:sigh: I should just have some human kids. See which species can run the other into the ground faster.
Hi guys. Yes, I’ve been a wee bit busy with work, apologies for that, but I’m sure you’ll understand that there are worse things in this economy than having too much work to do, which is the only excuse I have for the fact that clearly I need to up the security on my electronics.
In the meantime, I’ll leave you with the end of the puppies’ story. Because when you’ve had a day as eventful as that, there’s really only way way it can finish.
It’s a good thing they’re cute when they sleep, my friends, ’cause last week I met the nicest band of Gypsies, and boy was I tempted…