I needz me some body fat

I shiver. Uncontrollably. All the time. I got me the DT's. It alarms Mommy, and Grandma, and my human brothers and sisters. Well, actually, the kids aren't "alarmed". They are "amused". Why's Jack SHAKing?! they ask. And well they should.

It is freakin' 20 degrees colder here in the Green Mountains than it was in sunny Syracuse. The humans like to do this junk they call "skiing" and "snowboarding" and "sledding". I'm like, pleh. Leave me in my corner. Next to the heat register.

Shivering.

Listening To Prozac

Mommy went to the vet because I was skittish and uncomfortable. The vet recommended either a very tiny dose of Prozac, or something called "behavioral therapy". Mommy tells me this reminded her of when she gave birth to my human brother, and they offered her a choice between, as she puts it, "cool drugs or unbearable pain". So I'm on drugs, and mellower, and happier. I don't shiver and tremble as much, or shriek with emotional trauma when people leave.

Mommy calls this my George Carlin phase, and she thinks maybe she'll wean me out of it. Peace out, man.