Telling me I have to do laundry chores is the final straw. I’m going to call the SPCA.
It’s doggone unfair. I was hired to be cute – that’s my job description.
Now they’re making me do a bunch of other stuff.
“ Ozzie, put away the clean laundry. And be sure to fold it first.”
If I stop to rest for more than a minute, try to catch my breath after all the chores, someone’s on my case.
But there’s no way I should be sweeping the floor. My tail isn’t big enough.
Then Dad tells me I need to be a vigilant watchdog, too. He laughs at me when I bark at a visitor but am too comfortable to get out of my dog bed.
Course, I don’t mind some of the work. Cleaning dishes is fun, especially if they had meatloaf – that’s my favorite.