SUMMERTIME, AND THE LIVIN' IS EASY

Okay, here’s where mom biped seems to have gone a wee bit overboard with me – fashion.  I know there are canine websites where mom bipeds are making a fortune dressing their pups [not to mention cats (see my sisters below)] in the frilliest flowerdiest gag-inducing outfits, usually on a Monday, and almost always with matching hats.   I have developed great compassion for my sister felines, which doesn’t happen often, but seriously, I feel gut-wrenching pain on their behalf!



And from what I hear through the grapevine, none of these loving, yet deranged, bipeds EVER ask our opinions about whether we fur-slathered darlings actually WANT to wear clothing!  I’m pretty sure that my mom biped wants to create a reality show around me, or at the very least, to put me on a Parisian runway.  What seems really oxymoronish is that she removes my natural curly clothing, replaces it with some multicolored freakish costume, tells me to say “cheeeeeese!” when taking my photo, and then, AND THEN … she insists she’s gonna take all my curly hair-in-a-pile and knit me a sweater for the winter, or stuff a dog bed with it!  I ask you, is this the thinking of a normal biped?



Serious, I don’t know, will somebody please private-message me and give me an ounce of hope that this is considered normal?  I think this is a fair request, since I know bipeds are constantly asking each other on social media if their dogs’ behaviors are “normal.”  But I suppose that’s a topic for another Monday.

Watch your backs, fellow fur-bearers, the bipeds are lurking with scissors and cameras.

Yours ever-so-truly,

Mrs. Minnie-furless

BAD HAIR DAY

 

Babies.  Aren’t we all too precious, no matter how much, or little, hair/fur we may be born with?  As you can see, I myself was blessed with an abundance of thick, rich, yea, even luscious locks of varying shades.  Who could want more?  My bipeds raved over my exquisite beauty.  Mom biped told anyone who would listen that I was her “mini-me” ... whatever that means.   I don’t see the resemblance.

 

And then something went wrong.  I grew up.  And the mom biped took great joy attempting to live vicariously through my ever-growing, ever-curling, dred-locks, which I thought were dread-ful, but what can you do with a biped who insists on braiding, twisting, trimming, and threatening to shave designs on your scalp?!  I mean, really, this is the same mom biped who brags about attempting to straighten her own teenage dreds with fabric softener!  I used to live in fear that one day, she was gonna dunk me in a sinkful of blue goo.

 

Then came the day, a Monday, that the biped’s fur-fetish took new extremes.  She got her hands on a camera and began turning me into a calendar girl, usually in ways that made me look anything but glamorous, but made other bipeds drool with envy and say, “awwwww, so cuuuuute!”  (Gag.)  And here's the evidence.  She didn’t just take my photo in the most unflattering way EVER, but she abused her power with the aid of camera apps, thus comparing me with some ancient formerly-famous biped that went by the name of … Alfalfa! (gasp and gag!)

 

Somebody.  Help.  Me! 

Pleeeeease, won’t somebody come sneak me out the back door and shuffle me off to a professional salon!

 

Grumpily,

The Mini-Alfalfa