As I look around at my house from spot in the sun, I see my master, taking a picture of me. I don’t really care; I like people attempting to put my name to fame. Plus, it makes me feel important.
I love my masters. I look around at my lovely surrounding. I see my stocking that says “good dog” and see my comfortable bed. I also see the inviting basket of toys that seems to call out to me. I start playing with my favorite toy, Wet, or Wubba II.
Just as I am about to play with it, I smell something even better that Wet, food! My masters are making something in the room with the table. At first, I stare at it with big, lovely, brown eyes and wish with all my heart, trying to beg my way into the lovely meal which lies just beyond my reach. But that fails. My heart, (as well as my stomach) craves that lovely meal. But there still is hope. I look under the table for food. Maybe Master Abe will drop a lot of food today.
I know deep down in the depths of my heart (and stomach) that Master Abe is much more careful now and will likely not drop food. It is hard to be a dog.
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