So Mama and Curt tricked me yesterday. I knew they were up to something. So I ran and hid in the spare room. But somehow Curt got me. Then they shoved me in that little box you see pictured above. I hate getting in that thing--it usually means torture: nail trim, shot, temperature taking, groomer, teeth cleaning ...
But once I am at the vet I don't want to get out of the box. I get scared and I don't like being poked and prodded and have my teeth looked at. It just sucks.
Once we got home and Curt opened the little door I shot out and pouted for a bit. Mama is a sucker and gave me treats and said I was a good boy. I gave her the cold shoulder for a bit, hoping to make her feel guilty and never make me endure that torture again.
Today is all good. Just lots of lounging and napping and even some treats.
