Hoppy Thanksgiving everypawdy! Did you have a fun pawliday with your pack? I know I did! That’s ’cause my grandmaw has gotten so soft in her old age, she finally let me sit by the dinner table for the big feast.
I was soooo good. I didn’t even beg too much. My people were so impressed they sneaked plates of pumpkin pie scraps to me!
But just because I’m now almost eleven years old, don’t think I’m not a hellraiser anymore. Nope, that just ain’t the Shepherd way. There’s still a lot of rebel punk in me. See, this morning, I ate a tasty dishtowel for breakfast when my people were away on a walk.
Then I ate some of Dad’s favorite running shirt. I heard mom say he needed a new one so I just gave him a head start.
The humans were not happy when they came back from their walk. Mom just kept saying “Why, Wyatt, Why?”
Later, she went to the grocery store to buy me all new dog food. Lots of it, in cans! Isn’t that a riot? I got to eat canned dog food after eating the towel and shirt?!
“He’s either gonna puke or poop,” she said to pops. Now they’re waiting for me to do something.
Who knew being bad could be sooooo good?