Wednesday, December 23, 2009

people toys

I get a bucket of toys. All mine. The folks keep putting them back in the bucket even after I've killed them, ripped out the guts and buried them under the desk.

It's like if the bucket is full, I must have a lot of toys. No, I have a bucket of dead stuff. Now the folks, they have toys!

The best one is the one I got to see today. It's really small, doesn't squeak, and Dad person keeps it on his belt for some reason. He talks at it a lot and if I try to bring him stuff to throw while he's talking at it, he shoos me away. I hate that people toy.

But today was really cool. He let me get near it and I heard my name. I stared at it and it kept talking to me and it sounded like my Mom person telling me I was a good boy. Dad laughed and said how quiet I got. Well, yeah. If you're able to get Mom in that little box, what can you do to me?

I don't know where she is. I guess sometimes she's in that little box, but I don't know why she's not here. Dad takes me to the dog park a lot, but he doesn't know about cheese.

If he puts Mom near my face again I'm gonna see if she has cheese in there.

I miss my Mom.