SAD BREEDER'S DAY

BREEDERS' DAYAs u know Libby has gone over the rainb…..Oh crap! She died for Dog’s sake. So I am going to take over her plog. I am new at this, and I don’t draw as well. See?

But, I am much more intelligent. 

Maybe. It s hard to tell because in the mill I was so miserable, living in that dark wire cage, stuck in a garden shed my whole life that my intelligence got pushed out of my head all the way down to my toes.

 Now that I live with Mrs. s Myers I am slowly pulling it back up, but it is not easy. Also I make a lot of typos because there was no typing class in the puppy mill (or anything else)

         One of the reasons I am writing today is in sympathy for all those mothers out there who are still stuck in puppy mills. Libby and I were mothers there too. I know how bad that can be. So:

“Sad” Breeders’ Day every one. 

Okay:          Welcome back to our plog .  Here goes.

Ahem. I am a rescue from a terrible puppy mill in PA. I can t tell where sounds come from because I am deaf in my right ear. Probably someone hit me or blew a dog whistle in it or something. That is probably why when I hear a high-pitched noise I shake like crazy for a while until nothing else happens or Mrs. s Myers calms me down.

 It sure was hell at breakfast because her cereal spoon kept hitting the bowl and I freaked. Today she switched to a plastic bowl and spoon and it was much quieter. Thank Dog.

BTW, I do not call her Mom, because she is not a mom and besides: “If it walks like a human and it talks like a human it probably IS a human.” And in case you haven’t noticed, I am a DOG. Now genetically, for her to be my mother would be impossible (See? I am smarter than Libby).

In fact, maybe Libby died to do me a favor. Because, now that I get more attention my intelligence has risen all the way up to my knees.  Hmmmmm.  Now about that cat who lives here….. ha ha.

Once again, “Sad” Breeders’ Day every one.   I will let you know when I write again.

Love and Licks,

Thweetie, (ha ha, just kidding)

Sweetie