When I was four my family had to give me up, so they brought me to a shelter in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I remained incarcerated for a year, at the end of which I was transferred to the Huron Valley Humane Society in Ann Arbor, Michigan, in a last-ditch effort to find me a home. Five days later, I did. This is the tale of my happy ever after.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Home Work
Mom was busy all day today working on something called home work. Sometimes she also called it math. I don't know what math is but it sounds like the noise I make when I'm trying to spit something out, so I sort of think it isn't fun, even though she spent more time with it today than she did with me. And how is it supposed to be home work when she didn't work on anything at home? I think home work would be something like chewing my Blankey, or checking the smells outside our door, or carpet swimming.
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