The day began as any other weekend day. Since Dad was home, he took me out and fed me. Later in the morning, I got some overdue grooming:
Then I checked out some of the pre-Christmas gifts Dad brought. One was a huge bag of Purina kibbles, and the other was this interesting looking bottle:
Hmmm….some type of high-fiber oatmeal treat? The dog on the label sure looks happy. This might be something good. I just wasn’t sure. Then my parents tried to lure me into the bathroom. This is never good, and I wasn’t going anywhere near it:
I had to be dragged in, and then it happened:
That happy dog on the label is a traitor. When it was finally over, I dried off and (inevitably) turned into “whacked-out” dog. I’ve written about this before. It’s a transformation of which I have no control:
So it’s over. I guess in human terms it’s kind of like going to the dentist. You just have to do it every six months or so. Plus, now I am as pure as the driven snow which I removed from the driveway.
I love you – later!