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Tofupup's World

The Miracles of Prozac

I would like to take this opportunity to sing the praises of my friend, Prozac. No, I am not one of those dogs who's afraid of admitting he has a problem. I mean, we all need a little help sometimes, right?

For me, that help has come in the form of a magic pill called Prozac. Yes, ever since I met Prozac, I've become a changed dog. No more shaking. No more pooping in the bathtub. No more smashing my head through the window when my dog and my person leave me alone in the house.

I'll admit, change wasn't easy. At first I tried taking some weird dog tranquilizer that the vet prescribed. That stuff sure made me sleepy, but it didn't do much for my mental problems. In fact, some people said it made my shaking and my destructive impulses even worse.

But now that I've found a true friend in Prozac, everything's a-okay. For any dog out there with "issues," I strongly recommend it. And as always, I am here if you need to talk.

xo,

Tofupup

Why do I shake?

Hey, does anyone else out there have a problem shaking? I don't mean like when you shake a toy in your mouth in wild attempts to batter it to death. I mean shaking like how you tremble when you're cold or really scared.

Well, it's not too cold here in California, so that can't be the problem. But still, I shake and shake. Sometimes I just curl up on the couch by myself and shake.

It could be because I am shaking with eager anticipation of my next rampage of destruction. Or it could be because I fear the inevitable consequences of my next evil rampage-- time in the crate, being told "no" --- you know, all that pansy-ass nonsense my human likes to call "punishment."

Certainly, I have no fear of that absurd "punishment" thing that my human likes to parlay upon me. So what am I so afraid of? Any chihuahuas, toy poodles or teacup yorshire terriers out there? I hear you guys spend a lot of time shaking too. Maybe you can lend me a paw in solving this shaking problem.

Something Funny

Today I did something funny. I made my crate collapse while I was inside of it. Then I escaped and went to work ripping the tile up off the kitchen floor. I had to work fast, though-- it took me so long to escape my crate that I only had about an hour left of working time before the others returned.

When my human and Chloe came back from the dog park I just sat back in the corner and giggled to myself. I bet the landlord is going to just love me when he sees that I already gave him a head start on the kitchen re-tiling.