Stop the Presses column by Chris Graham
He always gets upset at me for hiding my snacks.
What he doesn’t realize is … I’m a dog, one, and two, has he ever offered to give me a few feet of space that I can call my own, maybe throw in a chest of drawers or something else that I can use to keep things in order, so to speak?
No.
He just walks around the house singing those stupid songs.
“Benzi wants more Benzi snacks.” “Benzi likes to hi-i-i-ide things.”
He could rhyme these songs, let me tell you – it wouldn’t hurt him a bit, and wouldn’t take much effort, given their simplicity.
But anyway, he never once asked me if I wanted to have, say, a hutch that I could put something on – maybe a nice pink lily or something, with a doilie in the shape of a heart.
I like things in the shape of hearts – but then again, I’m a miniature poodle.
It’s kind of automatic that we have to like hearts. And doilies. And pink lilies.
I digress.
Because I’m just dreaming here.
Not that he has anything to worry about – he has a chest of drawers, and a desk for his computer and books and notebooks.
And a cupboard to keep food in.
Not to mention all that cabinet space that he has filled up with God-knows-what.
He has stuff everywhere – literally.
And he gets riled up at me when I hide my snacks or my treats under a cushion on the couch.
Some nerve this guy has – giving me a hard time.
Oh, well. Guess I’ll have to pee in the floor again.
You know – to show him who’s boss.
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