Nothing good ever comes of the pet ER

Last night was sort of ruff for me. I won't go into all the dirty details, but family did have to take me to the pet ER. I didn't even realize where I was going at first; I thought I was just going for a midnight car ride. (What? It could happen.) But as we got closer, I started smelling something familiar--the smell of fear. You see, nothing good ever comes of going into the emergency room. I've heard tales of woe from many a dog, and even I've got a horror story of my own. Last time I went in there, I came out with...the cone of shame.

See this face? This is not my happy face.

Fortunately, I don't have to wear a cone. The bad news is that the vet put me on a grape-flavored antibiotic. Really, what gives? I specifically requested poultry-flavored medicine, but the vet ignored me. My mom and sister forced it down my throat this morning, and I swear, I almost barfed. So I'd like to take this opportunity to ask any pharmaceutical company reps who are reading this to stop making fruit-flavored medicine for dogs. It's like you're trying to make us sicker.

The saddest part of this ordeal is that I'm now on a bland diet, which means that my chances of getting grilled steak tonight are nil. Under any other circumstances, I could weasel a few bites from my humans (especially Dad. He's a soft touch.), but there's no way they're giving me any steak tonight.

Me sans cone of shame.

January 23, 2011

So the other day, I was napping on the living room couch. My sister walked by me and was all like, "God, Coco, all you do is sleep all day. Get a hobby." And then she laughed, as if my getting a hobby was ridiculous. Like it was funny that I might find a way to occupy my time (other than sleeping, gnawing on flossies and barking at squirrels, that is). So just to spite her, I decided that I needed to find a new, human-sanctioned pastime.


 I considered tennis, since it's an outdoor sport and it involves running after a ball that's just my size. But the visor didn't really fit.

 Then, I thought about learning how to drive, mostly because I love going for a car ride. There's nothing like a cool breeze in your fur. But the car was too small for me.









I asked my mom if I could retry painting, but she said no. Last time I painted, more of it got on my face than on the canvas.


So I was back at square one. Bored and uninspired, I went back to the living room, where I found my sister. I curled up on the couch next to her, dozing off while she wrote in her diary.

And that's when it came to me. I could write a diary--one for the world to see. I could be the world's first (or, at least, the cutest) Maltese blogger. So here it is, my first blog post.

Luv,

Coco