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Asta's Diary

Attention all dogs!

Just so you know, all rawhides and toys are mine. That's just the way it is, so get over it. And give me that rawhide...

Setting the record straight

Ok, I'm going to straighten out some myths and misperceptions about me.

First, Dad has been telling people for years that I'm clinically insane and that they have to keep me heavily medicated. NOT TRUE! I'm just "different." I live in my own little world and they like me here.

Yes, it's a fact that I'm on medication to control my "moods." But I didn't really think it was necessary. They only put me on my "treats" because I kept beating Porkchop up. It hasn't happened in a long time so I guess it was worth it because I really do love Porky. I just couldn't help myself.

Second, I don't deserve the slightly vulgar nicknames my parents call me. It's not my fault that they decided to name me Asta and that you can easily corrupt my name into childish, vulgar names that make the neighbors look twice when Mom and Dad call me for dinner.

And, last but not least, I'm not a "mutt", darnit. I'm at least half Swedish Valhund and I am very proud of my heritage. Just because I grew up in a shelter and my parents weren't smart enough to realize that I was a "special dog" doesn't make it ok for them to call me a mutt. Now that they know what I am they insist on insulting me by calling me the "Swedish Meatball" like I'm fat or something.

Well, that's about it. Gotta go outside. There's a mole somewhere in the yard that I have been obsessed with for a while. On second thought, maybe "obsessed" is too strong a word...