Post by Dylan on Dec 27, 2009 21:27:38 GMT -5
To begin with, I don't entirely approve of all the pomp and circumstance surrounding Christmas. The big meal part, especially with all its scraps and trimmings is a good idea. However, the tree, decorations and gifts are all an unnecessary burden to my guard duties. Not only were there Nazi cats trying to run off with the ornaments, and a Nazi ferret untying bows, but there was always the possibility of someone coming in the night to steal them. It's one of the things i don't understand about human den keepers. If they're so damned worried about their treasures, why do they place them under a neon decorated tree in the middle of the main cave entrance and wrap them up with tissue paper for every stray hound to see?
I spent three whole days guarding that Christmas tree and its endangered gifts before i discovered the awful truth. The pack mother, whom i had sworn my allegiance to, was planning to give these treasures to her pups! While this shattered my illusions i was guarding them for her, it still didn't explain why she put up a tree to announce their arrival. In my opinion, there was only one thing you did with a tree, but ahem. The pack mother convinced me this was neither the time nor the place for it.
However, all this gift giving got me to thinking, now was as good a time as any to present a gift to the pack mother's grown pup, hairy man. Not truly to expression my appreciation of the many forarides he's given me, but as revenge for the abominable haircut he gave me last summer. I didn't mind the shaved locks in the insufferable weather, but he took my top notch, my Brittany crown!
So I gave him this hat... but wouldn't you know it! He liked it. Instead of revenge, I had given him pleasure. To make matters worst, the pup of the pups had attended this gathering of gift exchange. He liked the hat, too!
This added to my intense humiliation. It isn't that I greatly mind young pups, but they have their own place outside the pack. I am, after all, a distinguished gentleman, a fearless duck hunter, not a nanny for barely toddling, ambitious pony riders.
To finish off the desolate evening, I received only two gifts; a woolly lamb who I prompyly gave to the young pup as being beneath my dignity, and a woolly mammoth.
Once again I have been charged with a grave and possibly unnecessary responsibility. This woolly mammoth was unquestionably a Nazi. I might tell you, at this stage in the story, I've owned a Nazi kitty for the last six months, that had to be punished at regular intervals. The Nazi Mammoth would clearly have to be treated with the same harsh discipline.
The first thing that was necessary was to remove the eyes and one tusk. This took a great deal of wrestling as Nazi Mammoth was fierce, but I am the great duck hunter. I finally subdued the mammoth and showed him what his eventual fate would be by letting him see Nazi Kitty.
Nazi Mammoth is quiet now. I don't think he'll make any more trouble for awhile, but just a word for the wise. It isn't a fat man who delivers presents at Christmas, it's a pack mother.
I spent three whole days guarding that Christmas tree and its endangered gifts before i discovered the awful truth. The pack mother, whom i had sworn my allegiance to, was planning to give these treasures to her pups! While this shattered my illusions i was guarding them for her, it still didn't explain why she put up a tree to announce their arrival. In my opinion, there was only one thing you did with a tree, but ahem. The pack mother convinced me this was neither the time nor the place for it.
However, all this gift giving got me to thinking, now was as good a time as any to present a gift to the pack mother's grown pup, hairy man. Not truly to expression my appreciation of the many forarides he's given me, but as revenge for the abominable haircut he gave me last summer. I didn't mind the shaved locks in the insufferable weather, but he took my top notch, my Brittany crown!
So I gave him this hat... but wouldn't you know it! He liked it. Instead of revenge, I had given him pleasure. To make matters worst, the pup of the pups had attended this gathering of gift exchange. He liked the hat, too!
This added to my intense humiliation. It isn't that I greatly mind young pups, but they have their own place outside the pack. I am, after all, a distinguished gentleman, a fearless duck hunter, not a nanny for barely toddling, ambitious pony riders.
To finish off the desolate evening, I received only two gifts; a woolly lamb who I prompyly gave to the young pup as being beneath my dignity, and a woolly mammoth.
Once again I have been charged with a grave and possibly unnecessary responsibility. This woolly mammoth was unquestionably a Nazi. I might tell you, at this stage in the story, I've owned a Nazi kitty for the last six months, that had to be punished at regular intervals. The Nazi Mammoth would clearly have to be treated with the same harsh discipline.
The first thing that was necessary was to remove the eyes and one tusk. This took a great deal of wrestling as Nazi Mammoth was fierce, but I am the great duck hunter. I finally subdued the mammoth and showed him what his eventual fate would be by letting him see Nazi Kitty.
Nazi Mammoth is quiet now. I don't think he'll make any more trouble for awhile, but just a word for the wise. It isn't a fat man who delivers presents at Christmas, it's a pack mother.
I had to scrounge around the trash to pick up extra scraps. Damned humans.