Dear Diary,
When I come in from outside, my feet are wet. When I lick and bite at my paws mom yells, 'Gracie! Don't chew on your feet!'
Walks are a thing of the past for me. All I do is sit at my window and watch the house. Day in. Day out. Watch the house.
If I voice my concern when a stranger walks past the house... there she is again...
'Gracie! Stop barking!!'
Is it time for her to go back to work yet?
The skies are gray and icy rain is falling from the sky.
Doggie depression? Heck no... not me.
I just wish I could find a place to pee.
Gracie.
