I think I am starting to irritate dad. Not the kind of irritation that can be resolved with a quick scratch. We’re talking about the kind that could send me away. Not that he could ever do that; he has a minority voting interest in any decisions about me. Mom decides everything about me and she would never let me go! Here’s the problem. For the past couple of days mom has gone camping with sis. I’m sure mom is really at a hotel. She is not the camping type. Anyways I wanted to go along with mom and sis but they forgot me. So I tried to make a hole in the door. This is wood door we are talking about; according to dad it will take two years for me to tunnel through it. This is probably not good for my teeth – good that mom found a fabulous doggie dentist. I know I am wrecking the door. I do try to open the door knob but all I ever do is lock it. Mom we need dog friendly door knobs around here. It might reduce the dentist bills! When dad got back from taking mom and sis to the meeting point for the camping trip he found me standing by a pile of wood shavings from the door. He yelled at me. This was a problem. I can’t understand a word he is saying. Even if I could I would take the route sis takes; ignore him [until we need something]. The problem was not that I was getting yelled at; the problem is that mom wasn’t here to defend me. So I had to coward to him. Don’t worry about me. When mom comes home I will use the whole thing to get sympathy from her. Note to self; when dad tells mom story make sad, sad eyes.

The evening got better. Dad was cutting the lawn and left the outside doors open so I could see him. Guess what? I can get through a screen door in a couple of minutes. Once I got through I ran to help him cut the lawn. He was not happy – I think “mad” better describes him. He got off the lawn mower and YELLED. I had one thought as he yelled – Mom get here quick.

I tried to make up to him on Saturday. It was just us guys. I always heard guys like to sit around farting and scratching. I did my part. Dad didn’t appreciate any of it. He told me to get lost. Anyways the whole farting was his fault. He made me my favorite food – chunks of grass from the mower deck. I know he leaves them on the lawn just for me to eat. Just like mom says – if you don’t want me to eat snacks don’t have them around. Same applies to grass chunks!

Gotta go – need to work on the sad eyes. I can’t wait for the girls to get back!