O sole mio!

Is it still there?

Call me insecure, but I've got to wonder why yet another pet is in the house. This one's a singing pet who, fortunately for me, doesn't eat. He just sings "O sole mio" and moves his head around. Well, everyone goes "Ooooh" and "Aaaaaah" and "Isn't he cute?" and forgets I'm alive. Joan even took him to work today. She's never taken me or Shane to work. Then, while she was gone, the phone rang and the answering machine went off, and there was Gloria on the line telling me how I, too, could buy one of these pets. No more pets! I'm going to erase the message before Joan gets home. It's easy. I know which buttons to push.

Humans are weird. First they're loping through their awkward prehistoric years, and someone gets the bright idea to capture a bunch of perfectly happy wild dogs and turn them into softie pets. It was a piece of cake to get dogs used to the easy life of chasing rats out of the cave and eating leftover mammoth. And the minute they got done breeding all that sexy hot wildness out of us, they start making stuffed versions of us and even got them to sing. What's next for the domesticated dog? Some Astroturf-lined zoo? Sure, the stuffed versions are cute, but they don't wash well. In the end, the real thing will be back in style. We've got staying power, and we eat your leftovers.

Best wishes from Juno, all dog and proud of it