This is what I have been reduced to. Sitting under Mum's art table while she makes birthday cards for people at work. The most attention I can get is if her foot accidentally knocks against me and in my deep sadness I pretend she is petting me (big sigh) Well yes, I don't have my collar on but I have to wear it when Mum is out of the house and at night. And yes, I am not in my cage because Mum carried me into the art room. But that does not count. I am no longer the top dog, Cooper has muscled in again and jumps in Mum's lap on a moment's notice. (big sigh).
These were my happy days, when I was top dog and I got to sit on top of the old couch (may it rest in peace). No, don't worry about me, I'll be fine. You just go ahead and run off and play in the dog park, or play tag in the living room. No one remembers the disabled and sick. Oh sure lots of nice comments right after my surgery and promises...but where are my mini-meatloafs? No where, that's where! Mum says I have package from Emmitt but I cannot open it until tomorrow morning because I have been such a whining mass of corgi tonight. Whatever.
Mum says that our new friend, Juno, is not well and makes me look like a goldbricker,whatever that is. Anyway, Mum read me Juno's blog and even though the old bat is usually wrong, this time she was right. Please go leave Juno a big bunch of love (you should have lots of it left over since you haven't sent any my way) and leave a note. Click here and leave a sloppy comment so he has something to read in his sick bed. I bet his Mum lets him eat in bed. Turn over your water bowl one time in Mum's bed and you're marked for life. But don't worry about me, you just go on and have fun. I'll just lie here under the art table.