A little brother my ass… Tynan here. She was going to show you more photos from her trip up the Rhine, but I had to step in and tell you what the idiots have done now.

 

Yes, it’s a puppy. Sure, they tried to tell me that it’s “all for you, Tynan. He’ll rejuvenate you.” What the hell does that mean? I won’t be 11 anymore? Right.

I suppose I should’ve been suspicious when the baby gates and the food bowl and, okay, the itty-bitty crate showed up. But she’s always buying crap for this or that cause. My antennae should’ve twitched when he didn’t complain.

So, they’re all excited. “Wanna go for a ride, Tynan? To see your sister up in Durango?” I like Durango, and the kid is there. We can hike. They get me all riled up. We do the three and a half hour drive. Another clue I missed. We stop at McDonalds, even have a picnic on the grass. They actually feed me french fries and chicken from her salad. Not a tiny bite, but lots of fries. Ketchup and everything. Half the freakin’ chicken!  How could I miss that they were playing me?

 

 

 

We pick the kid up from her apartment; check in at a hotel right downtown. I try out the bed. Nice. Next thing I know there’s a phone call and the mistress is rushing us off the bed and out the door. We’re in front of the hotel and I see…me! Or a dog that looks like me, another Welsh Springer spaniel. Oh! And in the rush and confusion, the mistress, she’s reaching down and picking up another tiny dog, a puppy that I realize also looks very similar to me. Oh!!

Long story short, we head for some very green grass – normally one of my most favorite things now that we live in the desert and have fake grass – and sit down. And I learn that the puppy is…ours. I mean…theirs. They can’t stop playing with it. I notice that it can’t stop trying to bite things – fingers, ankles, shoes, tails. What the hell? No one talked to me about this acquisition. Seems to me they should’ve, right?

 

 

 

Now we’re back home, and he’s upset the previously happy sang-froid of our comfy home. Baby gates keep me out of the master bedroom where I like to lie on the bathroom tiles.(And don’t even think of telling me to lie on all the other tiles in the house.) He gets on my bed. Toys are everywhere. Worst thing ever: He doesn’t know that we go outside to do our business! Ew!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The only good thing about his lack of civility and toilet training is that I still get to go visit my hooking ladies whenever the idiotress goes. He does not. They were here yesterday ostensibly to help me buck up, but really to visit…my “little brother.” At least they brought me treats. I love my ladies.

 

 

 

 

 

Now that I’ve gotten this off my chest, I’m going to take advantage of that fact that he’s napping (and not snapping or yowling) and get some sleep myself. He woke us up twice last night to pee and then again this morning at the ungodly hour of 5:45. I’m tired.

 

Please send biscuits. For big dogs.

–Tynan