Dear Diary,
Mom says our lives are at a standstill till I get better. No walks. No playing ball or Chickie Bird. No jumping.... well... you get the picture.
Oh, she thinks it's just fine and dandy if I watch the house though. Don't I deserve sick leave?
It's getting colorful outside of my window.
But I don't dare bark. If I do it's, 'Gracie! Don't bark'
'Don't lick. Don't scratch. Don't bite. Don't dig. Don't play.'
And one would wonder why this dog's depressed?
Mom said I needed a bath months ago. Now she says I need fumigated. Gracie.
