Dear Human Readers,
Help me. I saw my Uncle Andre and Aunt Sophie use their toes to type to you on this light box, and I hope you will read my story, too. The human they call mother is actually my grandmother. The boy is my father; he adopted me when he was still short and playful, and I was a puppy.
I’ve been a member of this family for ten years, and I’ve always loved it until now. There’s no nice way to say it. Look at what grandmother told the beauty shop lady to do to my hair.
This is ridiculous. I do like my hair short so it doesn’t get tangled when I hump Uncle Andre AKA the Kitty, or play with Aunt Sophie, but I don’t want to look like a boy, or worse yet a Chihuahua. Not that there is anything wrong with Chihuahuas, aside from them looking like rats. There. I said it.
I don’t deserve this treatment. I do a lot for this family. I bark whenever the wind blows to alert my family to danger. I also lick everyone because they don’t clean themselves good enough. I help with litter box cleaning by eating tasty nuggets.
I helped to train Aunt Sophie when she first came to live with us.
Humans out there, if you are reading this, please come and help me. If you can do weave and have some Maltese fur, even better. My father will pay you to fix my hair. He keeps looking at me, and shaking his head, and saying, “Lola, honey, no!” I feel the same way.
Love and Sloppy Kisses,