Bo-Bo here. Seized the keyboard while Mommy's doing whatever she does in that little room off the middle of the hall, so I gots to be quick. But I'm a greyhound; quick is kind of my specialty.
Here's the thing about Mommy. She means well. She hatches these giant big-hearted ideas and then, well, you should see the way her face falls when she can't make them happen. Just for a for instance, she's got these big ideas to enter me in a charity fun run, get me certified to cheer up old folks, and get me a pal of the four-legged variety. Progress? Not yet, not yet, and not yet. But, like I said, she means well. Take this doggy bloggy, for instance. She really wants—
What is it, daddy? What? Ok.
Ahem. Daddy informs me that this thing is a a blog, not a bloggy. Whatever. The point is Mommy really wants to be consistent and make this happen every Friday like clockwork. She's even got a list of cool things she wants to write about, but she also really wants to marry Daddy on April 19, which apparently means a to-do list of about a million thousand tiny little details. Yeah, I know. Daddy and I don't really get what the fuss is about either, but fuss she will.
The thing is, I'm all for it. As far as people go, Mommy and Daddy are porterhouse steak bones in a world full of milkbones. Sure, I'm a little hurt that I wasn't invited to the wedding—something about the board of health and serving food. No fur off my tail, I'm a resilient kind of pooch. Mommy should know. Look at how fast I bounced back that time she slammed my tail in the door—seriously, no hard feelings. Kind of the opposite actually. I'd like get them a gift for their wedding, but mommy went and retired me so I can't exactly go out and buy these pots and pans they keep drooling over on that Bed, Bath, and Beyond Web site. But there are two gifts I can give them.
Gift number one. First, I can be a trooper when they lock me away in jail when they get hitched (they don't think I know what the word kennel means, but believe me, I know it well). I will go bravely and continue to love them when they spring me after tooling around this Ireland they keep talking about. Besides, they win points for making arrangements for Meme and Grampy to spring me after four days instead of 15. That's something.
Gift number two. Second, Mommy recently asked someone if they could wrap up a few extra hours a week for her between now and the wedding. This is where I come in. I've just changed her bloggy, I mean, blog, password. I mean, sure, she really wants to update this page every Friday, but she could really use that time to finish up wedding plans. So I'm giving that time back to her. Bo-Bo Knows will take a break in April and be back in May. Don't even start to argue, Mommy. It's already been decided. No more Bo-Bo Knows until you're a married woman returned from your honeymoon.
And I ask just this in return: please stop calling me "crazy." You're not even going to change your last name when you're married, but you have no trouble calling me twisted nicknames:Enough, OK? Love to my favorite peeps and a milkbone for each of my fallen racing homeys.
- Crazy
- Dummy
- Bo-Bo MTV raps.
Your favorite furry beast,
Bo-Bo
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment