Recipe For Disaster?

I’m not one to complain. Really, I’m not. I try to give hints as to how I feel about certain things. Sometimes Mom & Dad pick up on them, sometimes, not so much.

I think they know by now, for example, that when I go to the front door and stare, I’m NOT trying to tell them that I need to go out.

I’m obviously just suspended in a dream-like trance, visualizing myself a wolf, as pack leader, tracking and trailing Liam Neeson through the blizzard’s whiteout as he and his rag-tag crew of outcasts and miscreants struggle to survive the harsh forces of nature after their visually stunning plane crash into Alaska’s treacherous frozen tundra.

(Spoiler alert: Other than the absence of a few flashback scenes of Liam Neeson and his wife on a bed of flowing, glowing 300-thread-count ultra-white sheets, my daydream is scene-for-scene the same as the plot of the movie The Grey).

One thing they’ve been a little slow to pick up on is this – I’m not really excited about my dry dog food. And have I hinted: I take a few bites out of the bowl when they first put it down, then wander away. I show them YouTube commercials where the dogs come barrelling around the corner of the kitchen knocking sh*t over as they race, legs akimbo, towards their bowls. I time my naps so I’ll be alert and ready to pounce when I hear that Meow Mix dispenser hit the floor. I eat poop.

It’s not that I don’t like Chicken Soup For The Soul For Dogs, it’s just that there’s so much more yummy stuff around the house all the time. Treats-a-plenty! Barbeque! Underwear! Cat food! Cat poop! (mmmmm, cat poop.)

If I hold out long enough, something sweet this way comes!

Something’s different, though, here at “C-Max” (Courtney Lane Maximum Security Pet-itentiary). I actually look forward to mealtime. I eat it all up in one sitting – watch the video – and even lick the bowl! I don’t even mind that they’re stingy with the treats here.
Now here's where you may think I’m paranoid, but I think they’re putting something in my food. Maybe it’s more sinister than that. And now you’ll think I’m crazy, too, but it’s like they've put a spell on me – some sort of Magic?

Or… could it be… both?



















Are you kidding me? It's just dog food? Well that's just NOT cool. Where's my sexy, voodoo, 12 Monkeys, paranoid, spy thriller mash-up story? Jeez, I'm trying to blog, here!