A Word From The Dog

Hey everybody! It’s me, your loveable pal Grover. I know, I know. It’s been a while since I’ve written. Quite frankly, I don’t really read the blog anymore. Mostly because I can’t read. But also because me and the human puppy have come to terms with each other. I’m fine with being at the bottom of our pack. And the Man feels guilty enough that I literally barfed the other night from too many treats.

But I’ve just figured something out. The Woman is ripe with another puppy. I can hear it sloshing around in her womb with my super hearing. And from what I can smell, it smells like a healthy baby boy. A delicious, delicious baby.

Anyhoo, the other night when I was putting on one of the greatest sad dog performances of my career (which resulted in the Man sneaking me a piece of chicken), I overheard the Man and the Woman talking about naming the new puppy. Meh. My suggestion, “Stinky Hairless Poop Machine Number Two,” went unnoticed.

But then my ears perked up. The Man suggested they name the puppy’s middle name after me! (First name withheld) Grover Hamann. I was so flattered. I decided then and there to stop licking the Man’s food when he wasn’t looking.

But then the Woman looked at the Man the same way she looks at me when she discovers one of my hidden poops in the basement. I could hear her blood pressure go up. And I could smell she wanted to dump the Man’s wine on his head.

Being only as smart as a two year old human, I couldn’t understand everything she said, but I could make out the words “ridiculous,” and “asinine.”

Oh well, it’s the thought that counts. Besides, there is only room in this world for one Grover.

Grover out!