"What's this *#!@?"
"Gracie! I've never known you to curse before!! What is your problem?"
Dear Diary,
I'll admit I'm in a foul mood. What dog wouldn't be? Let's see. In the past month there was surgery. Chair-rest. Hernia. Pain. Chair-rest. No walks. Surgery again. Chair-rest again. No walks. No play. FINALLY the stitches came out and I was released from that immobile prison they called recovery.
Then it was RAIN. RAIN. MORE RAIN. Depressed? You don't even have a clue.... AND here's the kicker: My Mom, who claims to be doing this for my own good, says 'no more treats for you gracie, you are on a strict diet for your urinary tract'. I'm not sure what a urinary tract is... but let me at 'em. I'll tear that @#$%^&*(& apart. Gracie, dog of many sorrows.
