Saturday, 21 March 2009

Help! I am under house (ar)rest!

The traitor STAFF dragged me to the v.e.t.s -- can a guy not limp in peace for a few days? Huh? Anyway, the v.e.t. - demon of the dark abyss she is - told the STAFF not to take me out for about 4 weeks or so. 4 weeks! Do you know how long that is in dog years? 109 years! Possibly more.
I am already plotting a dastardly plan of how to shorten this rest time. 109 years for a bit of a sprained paw? Pah! 
In 3 easy steps I'll be back to the best woods. Step 1. Look depressed. Step 2. Add some heavy sighing. Step 3. Throw up. Step 3, incidentally, should be quite easy right now. On of the last trips to the best wood I found a very aromatic mole - couldn't have  been dead for that long. So, I dug it up and ate it, natch! Little bugger didn't want to stay down though. The STAFF took a photo when it came back out, but they won't let me post it here. Squeamish like a kitten, I say! Anyway, the old tummy is still a bit iffy after that. 
It'll have to wait until the sun's gone down to start on Step 1. I cannot quite manage a miserable expression when I am this hot and, frankly, happy.

Don't worry, I'll get there. And I will keep you posted!


Ruben said...

what have THEY done to your pawickie?!
Try some of the STAFFs Sherry for your tummy! If nothing else, it will make you feel better.
Bye poor friend!
yours, Gerlinde

Ruben said...

Tsk, so Gerlinde was using my account while I was napping. What's this talk about paws and tummies?!

Otto the Weimaraner said...

Dearest Ruben and Gerlinde,

pssssttttt -- ssssshhhhhhh - mum's the word - hick! The shsherryy really helpsh! Shanks old friendsh - you alwaysh know what I need.