Hello, this is The General. I recently learned about the humiliations contained in Carol’s last post. What nerve she has telling the world how I got stuck in the secret door! In my defense, that door was made for a cat. A cat! Do you know how squishy cats can be?
So my getting stuck should come as no surprise. Heck, I’m PROUD I got stuck! What kind of pathetic dog would I be if I didn’t?
Sadly, not everyone sees it that way. After Carol’s debate debacle, Little Mom thought I wound up covered in bark butter because I was hungry! Of course I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to eat that delicious combination of rendered beef fat, roasted peanuts, and oats that Carol slathered me in to squeeze me out the door. But I wouldn’t purposely cover myself in a savory spread made for birds!
After suffering the further humiliation of a bath…
LOUD Mom took me to see the veterinarian. She claims it was for my “annual checkup,” but I know better. That damn Carol.
While sitting patiently on a cold metal table, I listened as LOUD Mom and the doctor discussed my weight in front of me like I wasn’t right there hearing every word. My troops have better manners!
They talked about how I get a reduced portion of dry food and how my wet food has been cut back significantly, so why wasn’t I losing weight? Was it the peanut butter and biscuits? No, they’ve cut back on those, too. So what could it be?
I sat stoically, hoping they’d wrap this up so I could get home to my troops and my chewies.
As the doctor dug around in my mouth, she suggested maybe they needed to do a thyroid test. Then she off-handedly mentioned to LOUD Mom how I have the best teeth she’s seen on a dog my age. So clean! Well, of course they’re clean. I take hygiene seriously!
LOUD Mom told the vet that my teeth probably look good because I eat so many chewies.
“You mean rawhides?” the vet asked.
“Yes. Sherman’s always chewing on one,” laughed LOUD Mom.
“About how many a week would you say he eats?”
“A week?” LOUD Mom exclaimed. “I’ll bet he eats one a day!”
The doctor left the room and walked back in with a folded piece of paper. As she handed the paper to LOUD Mom, I tried to catch a peek, but couldn’t see what it said. The vet directed LOUD Mom’s attention to the bottom of the page.
LOUD Mom burst out laughing, saying she had no idea. Had no idea about what?! WHAT WAS ON THAT PAPER?!
Next thing I know they’re talking about donuts. What do donuts have to do with anything?! I don’t eat donuts. Donuts are just empty calories!
LOUD Mom sat the paper down and that’s when I saw.
What kind of ninny equates one of my robust chewies with one donut, let alone TEN? Eggheads. A chewy is nothing like a donut!
Before leaving, LOUD Mom assured the vet that they would limit me to one chewy a week, continue my daily walks, and see if my weight goes down.
When we got back to the house I felt defeated, not unlike my namesake after The Battle of Kennesaw Mountain. Taking a spot next to Colonel Sanders on the sofa, I explained the situation.
The old Colonel encouraged me not to let anyone get the best of me. He said a little girth is a good thing. After all, look at him! Others call him plump, but he’s the bravest chicken I know.
Consider how many famous generals throughout history have had a little extra meat on their bones! Like Winfield Scott, hero of the Mexican American War and the first head of the Union armies during the Civil War. Even General “Stormin’ Norman” Schwarzkopf was no skinny minny!Not to mention, at least my chewies help my teeth. General George S. Patton smoked cigars. He was rarely seen without one. Now tell me, which is worse: Chewies or cigars?
Exactly. I’m not giving up my chewies without a fight! They’ll have to pry my chewies out of my sharp, white, plaque-free teeth.
I’d better go mobilize my troops. We have a fight on our paws!