Mommy and Daddy recently dumped me... I mean took me to the vet's kennel to stay for a week while they went to some place called Dallas for some conference. After realizing my predicament, I decided to take it upon myself to compose a diary. Below are my thoughts....
Day 1
Daddy was the one who had to drive me to the vet's office this time. I knew right away what was happening. Normally, it takes me awhile. But I saw their suitcases and the house had been aflutter with activity (beagles normally don't get to use words like "aflutter," so I thought I throw that in here). I immediately pressed my head under Daddy's chin and started whining... and we hadn't even gotten to the end of the street yet. Hey. I figured if I want to make her feel guilty, might as well start early! When we got there and the attendant was asking Daddy questions, I tried my darnedest to make her feel even worse by crying and jumping on her legs. She looked like she was going to cry herself. Let's just say I felt some satisfaction with that. I made one last go at it as she turned to leave, but alas, she left anyway.
Day 2
My day begins with a walk outside. I am then led back to my pen and have to wait *cough cough* patiently for my food as the attendant goes down the row of inmates... er uh... fellow canines to feed us. I hop up and down to get her to hurry. She giggles and says I'm cute. I'm thinkin' I might get some extra food out of this. Hmm...
More walks, more food, then the endless night of being ALONE with the other inmates... er uh... fellow canines.
Day 3
When the attendant takes me outside for my walk, she tells me that the front desk said Mommy had called to check on me. That's nice. It's also nice to know she feels guilty about me being in here. We have our four walks for the day and more FOOD. I bat my big brown eyes. She giggles again, and gives me just a little more FOOD.
Day 4
Okay. This is getting old fast. I'm tired of my giggling warden... er uh... attendant. Yeah, she says I'm cute, but she also says she can't give me any more food than what my Daddy had apparently told the other attendant. Puh. Remind me to tell Daddy what I think of her instructions when she gets back from this place called Dallas.
More walks. More FOOD (but not as much as I wanted). More giggling.
Tonight, I begin my howling warm-ups for the next day. The other inmates... er uh... fellow canines like to join in, but I'm the best darn howler in these here parts. They might as well hang it up.
Day 5
On my morning walk, the attendant tells me that Mommy called yet again to check on me. Well GOOD that she's still feeling guilty. She should! Seriously! I could have gone down to this conference thing with them. I would have been good. Honest! And I would have been a hit with everybody, too!
As soon as the attendant drops food in my dish and starts to walk away, I howl. Big time. What does she do? She freaking giggles! HELLO! She's supposed to feel guilty, too, and either: a) feed me more; b) let me out of jail; or c) feed me AND let me out of jail. I prefer the latter choice.
I went to sleep with visions of my escape....
Day 6
When the attendant takes me on my afternoon walk, I yank as hard as I can in an effort to be freeeeeeeeeeeee. Don't ask me where I'll go. But I'll be freeeeeeeeeeeeee. She holds on tighter and--you guessed it--giggles again. Sigh. Back into jail I go. Food. Howl. Giggle.
Later, they come to get me to take me to another room. Oh! Oh I know what this is! They're going to torture me with a BATH! But I'll suffer through it because I know that means my stay in prison is nearing an end. It portends Mommy or Daddy or both of them picking me up! Yay!
Day 7
Just as I put my head down to eat my morsels of food, I hear, "Buddy... Buddy Manfredi is ready to go home" over the intercom. HOT DAMN! I hop, yes, hop to my jail cell so the attendant (who is, yes, still giggling) gathers my stuff for my trip home. And to anyone out there snickering about my girth and hopping, guess what?? I've lost SIX POUNDS. So, yeah, I can friggin' hop now!
The attendant walks me outside and there's Mommy waiting on me! Yay! And there comes Daddy who is laughing at my antics. Yay! Oh wait. I'm supposed to be mad. Well, screw it. I'm not a cat. Cats do indifferent. Dogs do, "I'm so freakin' happy you're home I can't contain myself!" Can't help it. It's in our DNA.
On our way home, I give Mommy and Daddy numerous kisses to let them know I missed them. They giggle. (It's okay when Mommy and Daddy giggle--I can take it.) As we walk into the house, I sprint to my food bowl where I know Mommy would have dropped a little bit of food for my welcome home. And there it is!
Ah, home sweet home...
