A Day in the Life of My Dog

Apparently, my dog (Josephine Roberta Armstrong) has found out that I have begun blogging.  I know this only because I have found a note on my pillow dyslexically scrawled on some toilet paper with the header “Put this on glowing box”.  I assume that it was my dog, as my father is out of town, and his hand writing is much worse.  Never one to deny my puppy anything (except for walks, food, and attention that is not for my own amusement) I will transcribe what I received on the old bloggeroo (a name I am hoping will stick).  Here is it:

Hello small male human.  I have heard that you are now placing information on the interwebs.  I have spent my entire life in captivity, and I feel I must share my memoirs.  Perhaps I can shed light on the plight of the American dog.  Here is the break down of my usual day:

7:00 AM:   I wake up because the Boy’s alarm box plays loud music.  He pushes me off of him so he can go and do something called “showering”.  I make a note to avoid this watery torture at all costs.  While he is in the room with the bowl I drink out of and he poops in (sometimes in that order), I drag my ass across his pillow, bed, and rug (ALWAYS in that order).  I act like I am going back to sleep while the boy leaves.  Now my day truly begins (Cue ominous music)

9:00 AM:  What the humans don’t know can’t hurt them, so it can’t hurt them that I go on their laptops and make high powered stock deals under the name “Ched Statenwargle”.  I also watch lots of “Next” (which I keep secret more out of embarrassment than fear of being discovered).  It is usually around this time that I get the call from HQ.  ”Josephine”, my gruff but lovable boss Patches grumbles around a cigar (where he got it, I have no idea)”.  ”Anyways”, he continues, having given me time for my inner thoughts to process, “A group of 12 international terrorists have taken over the U.S embassy in Mongloia, and you are the only 20 pound Boston Terrier for the job”  I put on my sunglasses (which is quite a feat considering my lack of opposable thumbs) and said “I’m gettin’ too old for this shit” which ended up sounding like “Ruff.  Bark.  Bow Wow”.  (Cause I’m an effing dog).

11:00 A.M:  I arrive in Mongolia after what seemed to be a physics-shatteringly fast flight.  Knowing that time is an issue, I get my authentic Mongolian Barbeque to go and enjoy it in the car. My mission becomes dangerous quickly, as they forgot the handy wipes, and I am forced to discretely wipe my face and paws all over the interior of the cab in which I am riding.  This actually will not be too much of a problem compared to mess I left after scooting my ass all along the back seat.  

12:00 P.M:  I have been sitting in traffic for hours.  I have also urinated in the cab several times.  I am hoping the cab driver will not notice that I am a dog and have no money.  

1:00 P.M:  Still in traffic, roadways are as congested as they are unpaved in this country.

1:30 P.M:  I arrive at the embassy.  It is surprisingly smoky and crater-like for a building.  It appears that I am too late.  Oh well.  More time with my latest novel on my JetBlue flight.  I hope there is a “Next” marathon on MTV.

2:00 P.M:  I make it back to the house just in time to pretend to be sleeping while the boy walks in from school.  I act excited to see him, but I am really just excited to be home, exhausted from my world travels and espionage, and looking forward to pooping on a familiar floor (I like to make the boy clean it up).  

3:00 P.M  I alternate sleeping, eating and pooping for the rest of the night (not unlike your human infants).  I need to recuperate my energy in order to be in tip-top shape for tomorrow’s mission (which will hopefully involve less traffic, and more running down a hallway from a fiery explosion in slow motion).  

9:00 P.M:  As I drift off for the night I smile (to the extent to which a dog actually can smile) and think proudly of how I have served my country.  I also wonder how nobody, either at the airport or in the cab, even noticed that I was a dog who was wearing sunglasses and doing people thing.  Oh well.  Off to bed, tomorrow its the same old thing.