It’s been five weeks since I moved in. The cats still hate me (and they keep smacking me in the face to make sure I know that). I have yet to outsmart the gate. And I’m still not allowed to get on the new furniture. (Kristin: I don’t foresee any of these things changing soon. Sorry, Charlie.)
This is how I look to my human half the time because I’ve started running around a lot, especially when someone is trying to catch me. What fun! Sometimes I’ll snatch something that doesn’t belong to me and run into my cage with it while someone chases me. I also like to fake left and go right, leaving my humans running the wrong way. Good times. (Kristin: Oh, yeah. Freaking awesome times.)
Everybody — and I mean everybody — says my paws are huge. I’ve heard it so much that I’m starting to roll my eyes. Apparently my huge paws mean that I’m gonna be big. Every time my human hears someone say that, she goes, “I hope not too big.” I try to tell her, “Oh, we’re talking big big.” (Kristin: Oy.)
While I was on a walk, someone asked my human what I was mixed with. Mixed with. The nerve! (Kristin: Calm down, spaz. Your ears speak for themselves.) Our neighbor — who loves me — says that I come from good German Shepherd stock. He says my ears and teeth and mask (that’s the coloring on my face) are awesome. I like him a lot.
New development this week: My human is using a de-shedding tool. Not. A. Fan. It doesn’t hurt or anything but oof. Way too much of my fur winds up on the floor or in my human’s hand when she drags this rake across me. She thinks it’s “amazing.” Me, not so much. In fact, I’ve run into my cage with this thing in my mouth on more than one occasion in the hopes of chewing it to pieces. No such luck.