Since Bongo hasn’t been on his blog for a few days I might as well take advantage of it.
This is a perfect day to post my colors.
For some reason I always get all the blame for all the mischief around here, but this time I have proof that Scratchy did it.
Check out this picture.
Scratchy’s on top of the laundry room cabinets.
And it’s sure a good thing that opening to the attic is closed up tight.
Because my person said when it was first put there – way back before I lived here – the cover wasn’t over the hole and Scratchy discovered it before she did.
But since Scratchy couldn’t escape that way he tried another way.
And don’t think Scratchy was just sniffing the air because he didn’t stay at the entrance.
Who knows where Scratchy would have ended up if I hadn’t put a stop to it.
If Scratchy doesn’t stay where he belongs I’m going to have to do something about it.
Like lock him up in cat jail.
I’m the only one around here who’s allowed to be an escape artist.
Well today is a bit different because the door is open.
You’d better be running Scratchy because here I come.
I don’t believe it!
Scratchy is sitting there waiting for me.
I’m giving you what for for sure Scratchy.
Don’t think you’re safe on that counter. You know I can reach your food when it’s up there.
I’m on you now.
Just a minute.
Don’t move Scratchy.
Before I give you what for I’ve got to pose for the camera.
My person usually wont’ let me near any other dogs when we meet up with them on the trail. As a matter of fact she won’t let me near any people either unless they come up to me. She holds my collar tight and pulls me off to the side of the trail. I can’t figure out why. I’ve only been mean to a few dogs. If my person only knew what those dogs were thinking she wouldn’t mind that I was mean to them.
I do have some friend dogs though and sometimes we meet up on the trail. A few days ago I saw my friend Maple who used to live on my street, but my best friend dog is Timmy. Timmy lives across the street from me and we greet each other when we get together on the trail. Timmy doesn’t like to walk as far as I do though and he’ll start heading for home when I’m just getting going.
Timmy and I have something in common – besides being dogs, that is. We both live with black cats. Timmy’s black cat is Bubba. Bubba comes over to my yard sometimes but I have to chase him back to Timmy. One black cat is all I can handle.
I live with a big, black cat named Scratchy. Well, he’s big for a cat but not nearly as big as me. Scratchy gets special treatment that I don’t get and I get really jealous. Sometimes Scratchy gets on the bed and my person lets him stay there and even scratches his head. I’m not allowed on the bed – at least when anybody’s looking. Scratchy’s allowed to sit by my person on the couch too. If I get on the couch I get yelled at.
Most of the time Scratchy gets away with anything he wants, but every once in awhile he gets yelled at for something. When Scratchy gets yelled at I go try to help my person take care of the problem. If Scratchy’s on the counter I jump up and try to get him. If he’s in the bathroom trying to get the frog (the frog is locked in the bathroom so Scratchy can’t get him) I’ll come and block Scratchy’s escape path.
The funny thing is that every time Scratchy gets yelled at and I show up to help, I get yelled at. I just don’t get it.