Ok, so mom tells me I’m an a-hole from time to time. Well, pruddy much every time I snarl and bark at another dog. Which, ok, I have to admit is almost every time I see one on a leash. But a, uh, compact dude like myself, we gotta walk tall, show we’re tough. According to mother that’s being an a-hole. I disagree. I call it not being a victim. Proactive, you know.
So, yeah, I get carried away sometimes, get to feeling my power and I may become a little overzealous. It happens. I mean what good is being alive if a guy can’t get a little crazy now and again, right?
Ok, anyway, so I think MOM is an a-hole, too. I’m sorry, I love her, she’s awesome, gives me sugar snap peas (they’re delicious), but she’s crossed a line. I’ve lost trust and it will take some time to get it back, you know. What did she do you ask?
She took me into the pool. A swimming pool! Like with deep water. Oh she thought it would be funny – ha ha – to get the chi wet. She thought it would cool me off because she thought I was hot. Well, that’s what the hell shade is for. Not water. Not for a chi. We. Don’t. Like. Water. Hate it.
Oh yes, I tolerate the bath, cause well, you know, a guy likes to stay clean. I’m mature enough to realize that baths are a necessary evil of not offending others. I want people to pet me, and I understand they may shy away if I have too much funk goin’ on. I don’t want them to say “Oh looook at that cute chi (cause they do, they say I’m cute) he’s so cute, but man is he stinky. Don’t pet him, he smells like Mastiff butt.”
Anyway, giving me a bath, that’s different than carrying a guy INTO the pool. Carried me in over her shoulder. She got my junk wet.
You know I gotta say it…she…well, she pissed me off. Yeah, she did. I couldn’t even look at her for an hour. Damn sure wasn’t going anywhere near her. Oh she knew she did wrong, she knew. I made sure of it. I gave her the best stink-eye I could muster. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of my stink eye, you’ll feel it down in your soul. If you have one, mom.
<SIGH> So, of course I’m finding it in my heart to forgive her. She does feed me pruddy good stuff, after all. I mean she could feed me MORE good stuff, but I don’t really want to be a tubbo, super-sized chi. I gotta stay at my fightin’ weight. So I got respect her for that, too, keeping a check on my fightin’ weight. Some moms, they don’t care. They’re like “Oh, here baby, have more chicken fat, here, more steak, more Snausages…” And the poor helpless guy eats it up and pruddy soon he’s waddlin’ around like Orson Wells after a doughnut binge.
Anyway, so yeah, I’m forgiving her – slowly, but I jus’ want her to think next she’s calls ME as a-hole. She’s no “Miss Innocent”.
Peace to the Out,