Let sleeping dogs lie

My favourite person bought me a lovely bed. It is big and soft and warm. It is in the family room inside the house. The other 4-legged friend in our house, Bundy, who is much bigger than me, also has a bed that looks pretty much the same, only smaller. I think he would like the big bed but since I am patently more important than him despite the difference in our sizes, I insist on having the big bed.

I have another bed downstairs in the workshop. In fact it is an armchair. It too is big and soft and warm and I really really like it because it has flowers on it, it smells like me, and it makes me feel more like a person (which is probably what I should have been born as, but by some freak of nature, turned into a DOG!) Bundy also has a bed down there, a mattress thing, which is OK, but I insist on having the armchair even though he would like to have that too. Really when will he learn that it is all about ME!

So in the evenings when my favourite person lets me inside the house, I curl up in the big doggy bed and it is sooooo toasty warm. I sleep and dream of chasing rabbits, and digging holes all the way to China, and suddenly THAT MAN gives me a bit of a poke and insists that I go outside in the cold, downstairs to the workshop and onto the cold armchair! Really it is sooo unfair. No-one makes HIM get up in the middle of the night and move to a different, cold bed. When will he learn that I deserve to sleep inside (although I have no qualms about him putting Bundy outside, that big lug wouldn't know any better.)

I am making my plans. One day, I am going to push THAT MAN inside the cold dark workshop and lock the door on him for the night and see how HE likes it! That'll show him. Although I imagine I will have to keep right out of his way for a few weeks or else I will come into close contact with his size 12s.

With little shuffles and yips from my rabbit-chasing dreams, kisses, Kenny