Pore Bo Obama Is Daid
We’ve been waiting for you, Bo. You’ve been such a good boy. A very good boy. Now that you’re here, you can do all the things they wouldn’t let you do down there.
Here’s your new house. Of course you can jump up on the sofa. Sleep there all day. You want to sleep in the big bed at night? Go ahead. Don’t worry. Don’t forget to drool on the pillow. You’ll still be a good boy no matter what you do.
Bury your bone in the vegetable garden? How about hiding it in that patch of pansies she likes so much? You’re worried that someone will call you a bad boy when you chew the furniture? Go ahead. They’ll still say you’re a good boy. You think there’s a milk bone somewhere in the parlor? Go find it. Rip apart the upholstery. You need that milk bone. Now where did it go?. And while you’re at it, you always wondered how the handle of his favorite tennis racquet would taste. Now you’ll know. Chew, chew, good boy.
And don’t those plates of hors d’hoeuvres look delicious? Why wait for someone at the party later to give you a pig in a blanket. If you stand on your hind legs you can knock the plate down and eat them ALL, right off the floor. And you don’t have to put your tail between your legs because you broke the plate. No one is ever going to scold you here.
You always wanted to pee on the rug. Which to you prefer? Persian? Turkish? Scratch your nuts in front of the guests. They’re your nuts. Go ahead. Ransack the clothes hamper looking for dirty underwear to drag all over the house. Smell away.
Need a boost so you can mate with that beautiful Great Dane? Here you have your own service human. He’ll be glad to help.
You’ve always wanted to pull a loaded diaper off the baby and play with it in the guest room just before the guests arrive? They can’t take a joke? At least YOU’LL think it’s amusing. That’s what counts.
And notice, no door they can lock on your dog crate. And you never could figure out how to catch a frisbee like those annoying Labs everyone thinks are so smart. So they said you were cute but dumb. Let me throw you one. Great catch. Here’s a treat. One more time? We’ll throw them to you ‘til YOU say stop.
Want to chase a car so you can bite the front tires? Why not try for that Mack truck. You got it! And it rolled over your head and you’re good as new. Look how scared all the people were. Wasn’t that fun?
And wait until Thanksgiving. Those bowls of gravy sitting on top of that crisp linen tablecloth. If you grab the corner you can pull down everything. The turkey, too. There’s nothing better than getting gravy all over your ears, is there? Your tail, too? Go ahead. Roll in the gravy. You’re such a good boy. And no one here is EVER going to give you a bath. You can stink up here, and I mean STINK.
And if they want you to fetch that stupid tennis ball when you just want to see if you can get to that flea that’s itching right where you can’t scratch, your service human can deal with the ball AND the flea. You want to bark the whole morning on Sunday. Remember. You’re a good boy. Go ahead.
And while you’re at it, how about biting the mailman. Admit it. You always wanted to. Try it. Fun, wasn’t it. Ripped his pants and drew blood. What? He didn’t say you were a good boy. Bite him again. You ARE a good boy.
Well, that was a good first day. Why not get a nice drink out of the toilet and stretch out for a nap on the welcome mat? Nobody will kick you and tell you to get out of the way. And if they trip over you and spill the groceries, you know what they’ll say? Right. You’re such a good boy.