Sunday, July 16, 2006

Got in trouble.

It's all better now, but Friday night there was some yelling in my direction. You see, they turned on that big hot thing in the kitchen and made sweet yummy cookies for thumb-havers. And one of them was given to the Maris (see "What's a Maris?"), who thought it was still a bit too hot and gave it to her Mom, who then let down her guard, and the cookie, to my nose level, right on the arm of the couch.

So I ate half of it.

I would've eaten the other half of it, too, if it hadn't been for the yelling. The Alpha and The Typist did all the shaming and hollering and everything, and after a few minutes it was all okay, but I certainly did not get any more cookies anywhere near my nose that night.

Oh, and Maris was very good. And I'm not just saying that because I got to eat half her cookie.


Songbird said...

Dear Cub,
You really need to go to church. On Sundays, the old ladies give me cookies and cake and even pie. They think my thumb-haver doesn't see them.
(I think they're wrong, but it's usually too late.)
Your friend,

DogBlogger said...

As I recall, the last food I had at church may have been the taco sauce some of the youth gave me. I think they wanted to see me make a face... they didn't know I'm such a Texas dog and I love hot sauce.

The Boy hasn't been to church yet, and it's been a while since I've gone. Some people are uptight about me hanging around, so we go on weekdays instead of Sunday. But I think if it's not too hot, The Boy and I will both go to welcome The Alpha back from the mission trip this week.

zorra said...

Hi Cub,
I highly recommend church. One Wednesday night when obedience class (which I did NOT like) got out early, Mom took me to church. It was pretty low key, just a few people in a little room. Mom called it a contemplative service, and that was right up my alley--lying around and contemplating stuff is mostly what I do. No cookies and cake, but everyone petted me, and I laid down and was contemplative too. I haven't been back yet, but it was fun to be the church dog.

Mom says there is a church nearby that used to have a real church dog, named Mary. Mary came to work with her thumb-haver (the pastor) every day. I bet she was a great listener, too.

Congratulations on the cookie. Rats, I never get stuff like that. My Grandma's dogs get ice cream, but not me....Getting to lick Dad's empty salad bowl (I prefer ranch to blue cheese) is as exciting as it gets around here.

Your friend,


P.S. Tell The Boy I said "EEEHHHHAAAAHH!"

John said...

The apedogs make no sense at all. They leave food out, and then get angry when one tries to eat it.