I thought I'd start by telling a bit on how I came to live with my Mummy and Daddy. You see, my Mummy always love animals, but my Grandmama hates them. All she could have was ONE goldfishie kept in a coffee jar. Mummy grew up loving fishies and till today her work still revolves around those disgusting, slimy fishies. Anyway back to the story, since she couldn't keep anything bigger than a guinea peeg, she waited till she moved out with Daddy. Even then she kept thinking and thinking about the lifelong responsibility of having a dog. Daddy on the other hand wants a boder collie cos he thinks they are smart! But I am smart too, just 9 rungs below them on the list. So aft much consideration and speaking to a lot of dog owners, she decided to take the plunge. Coincidentally, there was this person advertising that he had corgi puppies for sales at a really low price. They went to view but went home empty handed! Cos Mummy had cold feet (well if she brought me home, I could have warmed it for her) and needed to sleep on her decision. She told me later that when she decided to have me, it was like a big burden off her chest!
So I was brought back to the new place. It smelled strange to me... Too clean in fact! I started to lick the floor to make things a lil' bit more familiar and but was pulled away immediately. I am sure you can tell that Mum is a neat freak. The room was so big and all of a sudden, I missed my siblings. I mentioned previously that my real Mum gave birth to 10 of us, but our eldest sibling got squashed by her and died. Luckily the owners had sense to send her to a dog doc, and the 9 of us were delivered safely. Anyway, aft being pulled away from licking the floor, i went to pee under a chair! I mean I was already holding everything in throughout the car ride and they expect me to suck in it some more? I was only eight weeks old then, with an eight week's old bladder. I see the hoomans' babies all have to wear this plastic thing around their butts till they are 24 mths or so. Hence my pee-holding-in skills are infinitely better than these hoomans. That's me on the first day of at the big clean house.
They put me into this huge room with a big white throne and told me that this will be my bedroom. I wanted to climb onto the throne but the surface was too smooth and I was too short (yes, I can hear you sniggering). The first nite I was really meek. But then after for the next 4-6 weeks I whined and pawed at the grills every single nite. I really wanted to be near the hoomans but I overheard Mummy telling Daddy if he lets me into their room, her nose will be blocked and she can't slp. Every morning, Mummy would greet me with half opened eyes and eye bags. She told me sternly that no amount of whining will get her out of bed to come and cuddle me, so I might just as well quit doing it cos she can't slp! I was tad a bit hurt to hear her saying that so aft a break of 7 days, i resumed whining again. Cheeky me eh?
Oh yes, I forgot this really traumatising episode! I was with my hoomans for about 4 wks and one morning, while waiting for them to wake up their lazy asses, I decided to chew on my grills. I had a faint idea that if there are no grills, I can escape to be with my parents. So I being the smart guy i was, I chewed from the weakest link, which were where the grills were connected. Yet somehow or rather, the hook connecting the grills became lodged in between my gums and I got so frightened that I started screaming!!! Daddy immediately came to check on me and tried to calm me down enough to see what was stucked but I continued to scream. Mummy came to see too and by then Dad saw the prob and was trying to to extricate me. I have to say I was so scared that I pooed. Mummy was close to panicking as I wouldn't stop screaming. I refused to allow Daddy to touch my mouth and even bit him (oh this is so embarassing, why did I start on this?). Mummy in the meanwhile was on the phone with the dog doc, but they couldn't do anything either. In the end Dad left me in Mum's care while he rushed out to buy wire cutter. All this while I was still screaming (note the liberal use of the word). Mummy was trying not to breakdown seeing me in such pain. But in the end I managed to wriggle free before Daddy came home. I was so exhausted that I could only crawled to my waterbowl for a drink. Mum immediately made an appointment with the dog doc and she pronounced me ok. Aft that I no longer chew my grills and change it to chewing my bedroom walls.
My Mummy shook her head when she read what I have written and said that she hopes this serves as a one-ing (Mumsy: warning) to all chewy dogs and puppies. So there you go, don't say I didn't one you!
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