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No, I'm the Boss!

Butter in the morning, Butter in the evening, Butter at- suppertime

Well friends, it's time for a new diary entry from me...Ida Richilieu, dog wonder! I have managed quite a feat over the past little while. I have found a way to help myself to the seemingly endless supply of butter sticks that my humans leave out! It all started over a month ago now, when I was left home ALL MORNING, ALL ALONE (well, except for Shed), and with only a measly dog bone to tide me over until Molly returned from work. Well, I was in the kitchen getting some water, when I spotted it...there, on the counter, left out unprotected, unmolested, all for me...a bright yellow, full stick of delicious Tillamook butter! I wasted no time, jumped up and put my front paws on that high counter, and helped myself to the whole thing. I even licked the butter dish clean as to cover up my tracks. I guess Molly was kinda upset when she found the empty dish--she looked at me with a frown--but she must've not been too mad cause just the next week, when we were over to grandpere and grandmere's house, she left a stick out for me again! And then over the next few days, one again appeared on the table! I must've hit the butter jackpot...I love it so much. And then, just this last weekend, I got the treat of not one helping of butter, but TWO left out on the table. Although the neon butter smushed up in the little bowl definitely DID NOT taste as good as the stick on the plate, it is still all delicious...and all for me! And my humans call ME dim! They're the ones who keep leaving all this butter out for the taking. DUH. I can't wait to find my next butter treat! I'll let you know, dear readers... Meanwhile, here is an ode to butter of my own composition:

Butter

Delicious substance
Yellow, creamy, slick
Sweet slab of fat
Why do they leave you
To grow dusty on the table?
I eat you standing on two paws
My nose just reaches you
The smell is overpowering
And you dissappear like that!

Free At Last!

It's gone! No more itchy hard thing on my leg. No more coney-thing around my head. No more lying around sad and tired thinking I'll never be normal again. My leg and paw are back and I'm not letting them out of my sight again. At first all I did was lick that leg. It felt so good. For a while I still felt like I couldn't walk on it, so I hobbled around on three legs. Then I accidentally tried it out when I was trying to get a bone from Shed, and it worked! It's still a little stiff and sore, but man does it feel good running around the house on it. Molly and Kate keep yelling at me to "SLOW DOWN!" What does that mean? I don't care. Ida Richilieu doesn't "slow down" for anyone, especially if it means not running, jumping, or cavorting with my brother Shed! (I say it's cavorting, but he seems to think it's threatening). It's good to be back. I can't wait until they let me outside to play frisbee!

Success! . . .and Failure

HA HA HA HA HA. I got it off again! It's only been a week and I've done it. I ripped it up good playing with my pal Schatzie last night, and then squirreled out of it this morning while climbing over the dog gate in the car so I could sit in the back seat. Tell ME where to sit with that crappy thing on my leg? I don't think so. As soon as I got over the gate, Shed (who was already in the back seat, the spoiled brat) came and smelled my leg and gave me that look of his. I knew then that my success would be short-lived. Kate and Molly were freaking out (once again) and nearly drove us off the road yelling at me to "STAY OFF THAT FOOT!" What's the big deal, I ask? That little toe doesn't even hurt anymore (but my whole leg feels weird thanks to that stiff, hot, itchy thing they keep putting on it). Next thing I know they're carrying me around, and I'm getting sleepy, and we end up at the scary man's house! I know when we turn into his driveway, because I can smell the fear. I start trembling all over, but I don't pee on myself or try to get away, because I'm tougher than that. Of course, the scary man put the darn thing back on my leg again! This time he wrapped the tape all the way up my leg and up around my chest, so now I look like a major dork. Luckily, I can hardly keep my eyes open so I don't have to look at myself, or see Shed and the rest of them laughing at me. The chest-tape is supposed to keep the thing on longer, but we'll see about that. As you know, readers, I bide my time.