I told them!  Bringing that horrid, orange kitty home was the worst idea since allowing a profit-driven oil company to drill at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico. For the record, oil does not just disappear – in fact, nothing just disappears. I digress – not only has this cat shredded the cushions on the sofa, it has destroyed an entire linen closed, and soiled the laundry room’s air with its fowl litter box.

I know that the elder of my pets have had enough havoc, but the daughter has grown quite fond of this walking shredder.  She has even named it.  Its name is Mr. Boots!

GROWL! What an innocuous name for such a spawn of evil. Having the daughter as its advocate is the only reason that cat is still encroaching on my territory.

I called it! I barked it, but no one listened to Creak. I will now have to do something drastic to change the ‘steaks’ of this war – yum, steaks…

Someone please explain to me the purpose of the feline species. They are simply the worst creature to walk the face of the planet, yet humans bring them into their homes!  What are they thinking?

Last week, my pets’ offspring brought a little kitten into MY home – the audacity! They were cooing over this filthy orange kitten they had found in a box, and they kept me at an arms-length because they didn’t want me to “eat it.” As if I would even lower my standards to eat a walking furball.

Cats feel entitled for doing absolutely nothing.  The problem is that humans spoil them.  Humans seem to promote their disdainful attitudes by feeding them out of little tin cans, instead of giant paper bags, and don’t kick them out of the house to use the bathroom.

We’ll see how long this new fad-cat lasts…

Summer in New Mexico can be rough for species with naturally flourishing coats.  I sometimes watch my pets as they take the family to the community watering hole or pool in town.  I know this seems a little selfish, but doesn’t keeping “man’s best friend” happy, refreshed, and off his ever-aching knees worth that dog smell everyone complains about?

Although I have taken my dips in mud puddles and neighborhood kiddie pools, I would really enjoy for someone to create a community dog pool. Who’s with me? Bark.

Yes, the title is corny, but how much wit do you really expect from an old dog who has unjustly been thrown into the slammer? Where are my rights as "Man's Best Friend."  Some friend man is.  I feel like I got the short end of this stick...

This place known as “Pound” might as well be a death center for other civilized canines like myself. The humans that work here do not even have the courtesy to provide us with a pillow to rest on in this cramped metal cage. It is simply torture on my four aching knees.

The good news is that I think I have a plan for escape! You see, the guards must think I am some silly lapdog. I have managed to unhinge the cage where I am being held captive. This next week I heard the guards talking about a high school field trip coming to visit "Pound." What kind of field trip is that?

Anyway, this distraction can definitely work to my advantage. With all those unpredictable humans running and yelling about, I am sure the guards will not notice a stealthy dog like me slip away from their grasp.

Hopefully next time you hear from me I will be on the “outside,” as I've heard those street cats refer to it. I will be a free dog once again.

UPDATE:

Hello world. It has been pretty hectic since I could last update. Last week, that group of high school humans came to visit. They were even rowdier than I could have possibly hoped. One disproportionately tall teenager managed to trip and knock over one of the cat cages.  Since felines tend to be overly dramatic (when not being apathetic), not only
did the unfortunate cat from the cage in question scream, the entire building screeched with a chorus of angry, frightened cats.

The unearthly sound of the agitated felines caused the high schoolers to cover their ears, scream themselves, and run about in a blind panic. Talk about a hissy fit! The guards rushed into the area where the cage had been knocked over. The cat had managed to escape its confinement and had jumped, razor-sharp claws fully exposed, onto the upper thigh of the clumsy teenager which had caused the initial commotion.

The guards flocked around the now screaming boy trying to calm him down as he desperately attempted to dislodge a very angry kitty. Obviously, this was my time to escape. I knocked the door open and rushed to the exit.

The screaming of teenagers, cats, and now barking dogs continued as I realized how sitting in the cage for so long had really affected my mobility. I wanted to run so much faster, but each joint pained me more with each additional step. The youths had already managed to find the exit and were spilling out in the parking lot just beyond the jail. I was in the home stretch.

I managed to barely squeeze through the closing door when I heard a piercing voice of one of the female guards yell, "DOG!" She was still back on the other side of the building where the cat-teen bond was still holding firm. The door slammed behind me, and I began to search for some place to hide. In that same moment I realized, I had no idea where home was or how to begin my journey there. The teens were recovering from their field trip outside when they noticed me. I was terrified I would be caught and thrown back in jail.

I could hear the guard who had called after me rallying the troops to come after me. It was too late for me...

That's when I heard a familiar voice come from the group of teenagers, "Creak? Is that you, boy?" It was one of my pet's friends who tended to frequent the house during the summer. In the past, his potent unwashed smell had repelled me any time he made an advance to pet me.

"It is you! What are you doing here? Your family has come around the pound at least three times looking for you. Where's your collar?" He scooped me up like I was a little puppy and rushed me over to his car.

Some things started to add up, the woman from the flower garden had yanked off my collar and told the dog catcher to, "make sure he gets what he deserves." She had then slipped him what looked like $10. My fate had been sealed for just $10! I had a small fortune of bones and left shoes I had buried in the backyard I would have been more than willing to exchange for my freedom.

"Let's get you out of here" my teenage liberator exclaimed as he peeled out of the parking lot while simultaneously dialing on his little brick. I was finally on my way home.

I was walking around the neighborhood in a state of bliss.  Typically, I tend to spend five out of every six minutes of my advanced dog life thinking about the pain in my four knees, but now the only thing I could think of was my newly found freedom.  Some dogs may tell you it can be dangerous on the “outside,” but I have been observing these humans for years.  They live to serve us dogs, and will sometimes fight over who gets to pet me or feed me a treat. 

The colors (the ones I could see) whirled past me, and I came up to a flower garden.  It was one of the best ones.  Lots of tasty flowers, and nice soft dirt you do not even have to dig very head hard to sink your paws into!  Maybe I got a little carried away, because before I realized it, my legs were more than halfway deep into the rich black dirt!  That’s when I heard it…

A blood curdling scream came from what sounded like a human woman.  I shot up to investigate what had happened to her, thinking perhaps I could lend my Canine aid to her predicament.  When I finally spotted her on her front porch, wearing only a pink robe and those curious rollers in her mane (the females of the species seems to think these “curlers” are quite fashionable), she was in no danger whatsoever!  I noticed that her glare was focused on me.  Perhaps I had pre-empted her own intentions to take advantage of the flower garden, to feel the rich soil between her paws. With all due respect, she clearly lived adjacent to the garden and had access to it at any time she wanted. 

She then started talking to the little brick in her hand, calling it “Dog Catcher” in a very aggressive tone.  I simply walked away, because she was obviously disturbed.  That was my mistake, and now I'm sitting here in jail. 

My time’s up again…I am still formulating my escape from “Pound.”