I promised all of you that I would tell you the story of when I broke my left-front leg; I like to refer to it as the day I became bionic. It was a dark and stormy night (please disregard the cliche, but I'm a dog, not that Harry Potter-writing chick), and I was hoping to lie down with the kind women and watch some tv. I enjoy watching the reality shows with the dwarf family or that crazy family with the eight kids. Eight kids! I wonder how many nipples that lady has!!! To tell you the truth, I wonder how many nipples I have. I'll have to get back to you on that.
But I digress...back to my story. The younger woman was nowhere to be found, for she has what some of the humans refer to as a "social life." Whatever this means, it does not seem to involve me, so it must not be that great. I decided to look for the other squeaky woman. As I told you in an earlier blog entry, I found out her name is "Pookie." Back then she was only referred to as "Mom," but I don't think she is actually my mom because she is of a different species.
Gosh, I must have ADHD because I can't seem to stay on topic. Maybe that is why the man is trying to destroy me; he is a teacher, so this condition makes me his natural enemy.
Okay, that's it...back to the story. Focus, Zobo, focus.
"Pookie" decided to spend some time with me, which was much appreciated. She likes to pick me up, and I really don't mind it because it gives me a better vantage point so that I can make my plans of conquest. During this time, something absolutely terrifying happened. The sky lit up and there were huge booms that sounded even more deadly than whenTucker eats leftover vegetarian chilli. I have no idea why they let him eat that stuff...beans are truly weapons of mass destruction.
The wind made a perfect impression of me as it howled through the night. Eventually the chihuahua within me took over. I shook and shook. I wriggled and howled. I arched my back and kicked my legs. All I needed was to be held close and told everything would be okay.
That's when she dropped me.
She later said it was my fault for vaulting out of her arms, but I think she was under the mind control of the man, who was trying to take me out once and for all.
I was in shock for a moment, and then the pain seared through my body, causing me to wail at the top of my lungs. It hurt, man! It really hurt!!! I could tell "Pookie" did not know what to do and felt horrible, but that wasn't fixin' my leg anytime soon. I was then taken to a hospital; an Acura was my ambulance for Pete's sake!!!
Once I got there, I endured X-rays and a long surgery where the doctors inserted steel pins into my leg. It was painful, but not as painful as the humiliation that would follow. I was forced to wear a satellite dish around my neck that prevented me from licking myself. I was also fitted with a colorful cast that immobilized my poor leg and did not match any of my outfits. I was totally devastated.
Of course the man had no kind words once he finally showed up. He called me "tripod" and mocked me by asking if we could now get the NFL Network with our new dish. Tucker continued to sniff my butt because I could no longer reach his nose to bite it with the dastardly dish around my neck. I was then forced to spend weeks in a child's playpen with nothing but a sqeaky toy, the likes of which I had already defeated and removed the squeaker. I wallowed in my own sorrows (and at times by choice my own urine) and put on enough pounds so that wearing a bikini was impossible.
Do I forgive "Pookie"? Yes, I do.
Am I stronger from the experience, yes.
Will I use my new bionic leg to its full capabilities? You can bet on it.
Did I have time to plan a major strike against the man?
Let's just say you should stay tuned.
Feliz Navidad, ya'll.
Z.
p.s. The tree is still not speaking. I might have to use more forceful methods.
Tucker and I discuss my emergency.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
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MY DAILY POLLS. VOTE WISELY, GRASSHOPPER.
1 comment:
well then, my goal becomes clear. the broccoli must die!
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