New Contributor to Blog - Scout
The Bedroom Master
came home last morning with a beefy roast the size of one of those suspicious
cars that the Boy remotely stalks me
with, and I am not ashamed to admit that I wanted that beefy roast. So, as the
Bedroom Master left to take to his private bowel movements, I took the beefy
roast for myself. I did not share it with the Bitch because she was not tall enough to help me procure the beefy
roast, and therefore, did not deserve any of its deliciousness. I devoured it
quickly as the Ornery Cat watched in
horror, and it was delicious like I thought that it would be, although I now
know that I prefer cooked beefy roast, if I am to be offered the choice in the
future.
When the Bedroom Master returned with that stupid look on
his face, the one that he has when he forgets his house keys in the front door lock
and cannot remember where he left them, I smiled in glee at my deed. It was
stupid of him to take to his seat in the private room (the one he only allows
the New Cat to accompany him into) to
evacuate his bowels. You lost the beefy roast, Bedroom Master, precisely
because of your short-sighted need for privacy. That is why I defecate within
sight of all of my bones and chew toys.
I was enjoying myself immensely, right up until the moment
that I realized that my stomach was too small to accommodate five pounds of beefy
roast before digestion could commence. I was then forced to relinquish all five
pounds of half-digested, beefy roast back to the Bedroom Master. The hardwood kitchen
floor seemed a perfect spot for this surrender, although the Bedroom Master was
displeased by my choice. He yelled “Naw, bad, naw, naw, naw—outside!” It was
hilarious, but I was forced to remain outside for what I can only assume was
forever, since I have no sense of time, nor any real concept of eternity. I
have still not been granted access to the bedroom since this incident, so I
will continue my silent protest of devouring throw pillows until the Bedroom
Master concedes that access to the giant bed is my Dog-given right. I find life
empty without my spot on the bed, because it is by far the most blanket rich
resource in the entire house.
—
Scout (A.K.A.
Good Boy)
Scout is now a contributing member of Wasatch Pulp as well as an
asshole with significant boundary issues.
