Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Charlie is not having a Merry Christmas.

From the Journals of Lt Charles Dogford

I haven't the foggiest idea what day it is in the new land...each day stretches out before me like an eternity filled with naps and barking. The humans have been calling this day "Krissmus", however, so that is the term I will use for today.

I have decided to attempt my escape soon. The humans have taken their torture to new extremes. Now, not content to simply eat their wonderfully-smelling victuals in front of me, they taunt me with them.


 This is no longer a happy place. I'll update you as to when I've decided to run away. After this nap. And I'll probably play with my toys a little first, too. Actually, considering this matter more, perhaps I'll stay until the spring. The winters in these parts get bitterly cold, and despite their aggravating dining habits, they are surprisingly humane when it comes to letting me sleep inside on the chilliest nights. I'll take advantage of their kindness until it becomes warm enough to travel comfortably. I'll have to figure out how to take my little house with me when the time comes...


  1. You guys are HORRIBLE! He should bite you before he runs away. (Eph. 6:4: . . . provoke not your children to wrath . . .)

  2. Um-- tell me he at least gets a reward for being so good while his owners taunt him without mercy... I mean, no human food is one thing, but taunting him with it is a whole 'nother thing...

  3. Hey now...he brings this on himself. We've tried making him lay down when we eat, but all that does is makes us get up from the table 20 times a meal to reinforce it. If he insists on standing at the table, so be it! We may as well have fun with it =D