This Dog With A Blog Needs Your Help

Molly here.  For those who don’t know, I’m a Golden Retriever and Terry & Karen’s only furry child.  Don’t get me confused with Kuma, that handsome, four-legged actor who played the part of Stan, that adorable canine who could talk,  in Dog With A Blog.  Everyone knows that dog’s can’t talk….but type out a blog on my Dad’s laptop–you know it baby!

I’m reaching out to all my parent’s friends for a little insight.  Something big is going on here at the old homestead.  Mom and Dad are trying to hide something from me.  How do I know?  I’m getting the same vibes I usually get when they haul out their suitcases, pay more attention to me than usual for a few days but then leave me with my dog-sitter Tasha for what seems like forever.

This is different though.  The suitcases are still tucked away in the upstairs closet but a bunch of weird stuff is happening which I can’t quite put my paw on it.  For example:  The other day, all these strangers came to our home and took away a lot of our things.  I didn’t mind the people.  Dad brushed me so I was looking adorable.  I got a lot of attention and received a ton of compliments but I couldn’t believe it when Mom just stood there while someone took my favorite couch.  What’s up with that?  I gave her the cold shoulder by not looking at her for a few hours and tried to make her feel guilty by constantly sniffing the sacred ground where my couch used to be, but in the end my favorite place to sleep is long gone….Grrrrrrr!

Now my parent’s are running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads chopped off, which is a very gruesome  and troubling word picture if you ask me but one I’ve heard them use from time to time.  Dad put together a bunch of boxes and stacked them up in the living room (where my favorite couch used to be….Grrrrrr……calm down Molly, take a deep breath.

Okay, where was I?  Oh yeah….boxes are everywhere and my parents are fighting more than usual.  Anger makes me nervous, so when I sense their frustration levels rising, I can usually diffuse the situation by smothering them with kisses and pretending to be very needy.  That usually does the trick but sometimes I have to resort to ringing the bell on the front door which I normally use for letting them know I have to go potty.  One of them has to stop arguing to open the door for me but instead of going outside, I just look up them with my big, brown puppy dog eyes, wag my tail and smile.  If nothing else works, that usually does.

Then there are all the phone calls to their oldest daughter in a place called Florida.  I can’t understand everything their talking about (remember, I’m only a dog) but they seem very excited when they talk.  And what’s up with this huge metal box sitting in our driveway with the letters….PODS written on the side of it.  I don’t get it.

Well, I hear my parent’s waking up so I’d better get off Dad’s laptop. For those of you who read my blog, please fill me in on what’s going on.   I’d really appreciate it.

Thanks.    Love Molly.

 

 

 

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