My person has lost her mind. There I was, on my walk minding my own business, ignoring a scruffy dog, when she started squealing and telling me what a "good girl" I am. Well, of course I'm a good girl! I'm the best, if I do say so myself. Normally I would have barked, growled, and lunged at the ruffian, but I had no interest in exerting that much energy so early in the morning. Instead, I glanced at him, and kept on walking. Always leave 'em drooling, I say. Such a small thing seems to be a huge deal to my person, though. They are so easily amused. That's why I keep them around-they are absolutely entertaining to watch! By the way-if this was a test that I passed with flying colors, Dante failed it miserably. He scared the furry vagabond senseless!


On another note, the canine prison isn't near as detestable as I had feared it would be. The first day, there were so many treats and chews that I had barely noticed where I was. By the third day, I had caught on to their vile scheme to lock me up, and began to whine and bark non-stop. I hoped that I could annoy them into setting me free. By the end of the week, I noticed that I only got my favorite chews while in the prison, so I go in much more willingly now. Dante never protested, and has gone into his cell on his own from the first day. He actually seems to enjoy it!! I see it as even more proof that he has a few screws loose. I'm still untrusting, but I am starting to think it isn't an entirely bad place to be.


I must apologize for the brevity of this entry, Diary, but I've been eyeing a piece of toast under the table, and I am having a hard time focusing on much else.


Pippa