Sunday, March 20, 2011

Resistance is futile.

Well, I've all but given up hope on rescue (Swat team-style) from the nice people that seem to have endeared themselves to me.  It's been four days, and despite the humane society calling this afternoon.  Yes, I answered the phone while Abe and Elle were out on a bike ride.  Sue me for being curious.  I got the news in the form of a notice that some puppies at the shelter got Parvo.  Nasty little buggers.  The virus that is.  Not the puppies.  What do you take me for?  Honestly. 

Anyway... the humane society called and gave me the "bad" news.  That I was actually adopted by these people.  Well, I can't blame them.  But, really, someone ought to have told me.  It would have made the transition a bit easier.  I wouldn't have spent the last four days wondering when the Swat team was gonna break down the door.

Yes, I know Elian Gonzales.  I looked him up after the Humane Society gave me the news.  The woman on the other line asked, "Who do you think you are, Elian Gonzales?"  I Googled him, and yes, I did think that's who I was.  In a way, I feel he and I are one in the same, yet... based on the photo, he looks more scared then I am.  And, who hides in a closet if you're "getting rescued?"  Come on!  We all know that we run out the front door with our paws up in the air.  If we're lucky, we'd get a belly rub and a treat.  I guess Elian got something else.

In any case, I guess I've settled in a bit.  I'll give Elle and Abe the benefit of the doubt.  They're trying.  They give me rawhides.  Wow.  They're like crack.  Not that I do crack or anything like that.  That would be bad, and I'm sure the nice, caring people at the humane society would frown upon that.  But, man... these things are like crack.  I love `em.

Lastly, Pearl is a little skeptical of me.  Maybe it's all that manly attention I'm giving her.  I keep trying to tell her I'll calm down in a few years, but she's not convinced.  Here she is looking at me.  See... skeptical.  Of course,  I was in the crate at the time.  Maybe it's pity.  I can't tell.
Hell, even I look skeptical, sometimes.  No, I didn't "have an accident" in the crate.  Those are treats.  Cut me some slack.

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