Tales of a Disgruntled Dog: Part 1

They are finally gone! I have been quietly observing Brian over the past few weeks, waiting for the perfect moment tell my story. I think they will not return for three hours, as has been customary every seven moons.

Let me just start with an introduction. Being an adopted puppy is no field of clovers. I was born on the first of April, 2007. My mother did not hang out with the best of crowds and I never new my dad. Although I am told he was the coolest thing in town. I am the youngest of seven, although at sight, one would never know we were all related. The mixed blood of my ancestors caused us to all look different.

Shortly after birth, my mother, my siblings and I were taken away from our home and placed in a foster home out in the countryside. Our first months were spent under the careful watch of a rottweiler named Butch. Our days were simple, we were released from the cage a few times a day to use the rest room and stretch our legs. Some days we would even take road trips to the doctor. But the life of ease was about to end. I remember, sometime in May, we took our normal road trip to the vet. But something was wrong. I was taken into a small cage, placed into the back of a car, and driven away from my family, never to see them again. It took me a while to get oriented to my surroundings, but I noticed the driver of the car had blond hair.........

So that is how it all got started. Since that day, life has never been as easy. Working for my food. Performing ridiculous tricks for just a crumb of jerky. Retrieving toys, only to get them tossed again. Ropes, kennels, and constant photographs....Someone help me! I will try to keep you all updated every week.