Wild Life Of A Little Monster

Others are scared of me because of all the fun I have. Considered a vigilante by my Eponine.

Good, Bad, Ugly

George and StanleyUncle Cowboy is still sleeping. Appears to be hungover. We're going to let him sleep just a bit longer.

This is Stanley. You might recognize me and George from our Hallmark cards. In addition to being a card model, George is my co-hort in daily barking, slobbering, licking people, pooing & peeing, snack eating and shredding toys. The list is longer, but I am keeping it high level for now.

Staying with Cowboy is not too bad, but he works too late. Granted, he goes in later than our mom, but then it's like already dark when he comes home. That sucks.

George here. I love the yard, chasing squirrels and digging holes. It's also tons of fun running up and down the stairs. But where's the damn doggie door? Cowboy's home is worthless without a doggie door. No re-sale value at all. Cowboy also is not near as free as Mom with the dog treats. Stingy describes it best.

Last night he came home and it was still light outside. Stanley and I chased (mostly me, Stanley really just watches me) a few squirrels in the yard and played. Then, that Cowboy slapped on our sports bras and we went terrorizing all things along Parvin Road and around the 'hood. Came home and were pooped. Collapsed on the floor.

Stanley again. As George said, we were tired. After our Three Dog Bakery all-natural entree mixed with just the right amount of dry food, we played with the purple spider.

With dinner vanished, we decided to take on Cowboy with some drinking games. For every 20 laps of vodka or magarita we took, collectively or singularly, he had to down a drink. It was a riot. That Cowboy got so ripped he held that purple spider and let us chase him around the house. We caught him and snagged that purple spider a few times. We all passed out soon after the evening news. Full and happy.

Mom comes home today. She's been retreating with litigators. Whatever the heck that means. We never retreat. Not even when the tough dogs look twice at us. I just lick them, but I have George trained to attack at my command. Until next time. Stanley (and George) out.


At October 01, 2006 12:29 PM, Blogger Meg said...

Upon arrival home, they snorted their way up to the couch and slept soundly until this morning. Classic.

At October 02, 2006 12:10 PM, Blogger Puggyspice said...

Nice post, Stanley and George. You might wanna keep quiet about the sports bras though. PETA will have Cowboy's head on a silver platter if they catch word of this.

At October 02, 2006 9:51 PM, Blogger bat & bandit & holly said...

erm . . . what exactly is a sports bra for woofies?


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