Wed, 02/03/2021 - 11:30am

Auggie’s new blog is out!

He renews his battle against The Vets.... read the beginning of this thigh-slapper and then click on the link at the bottom if you are compelled to see what happens and read the poem what the title references.


[Editor's note: Auggie had a cracked tooth and a benign fatty deposit removed from his waist in December. It's probably why he's still so crabby today.]

Salutations, loyal ones. Curtail your questioning until after I am done speaking. You would be wise to heed my call. And please note that I have provided you with a comments section at the bottom of this page for your lackluster perspectives. I shall instantly revoke this privilege if the churning morass of humanity what reads this blog cannot act sanely and respectfully.

The Bipeds have gone too far this time. They are stoking the fires of an inter-species war. Don and that Microbrain Teddy are accusing me of stealing the "Tedster's" food. I have NEVER stolen any food in This House. Not even from that dunce Buddy's food. I wait for that idiot Teddy to finish his meal and move away from his bowl before helping myself to the remains. That is the LAW of Chez Faulty. and I abide it.

I am numb to the ceaseless prattle that emanates from from these vapid jugheads. What I cannot forgive nor forget is the blatant abduction and vicious attack on my person that occurred only days before The Holy Day of Peace that is Christmas.

Shall I detail the horrors for you? Will you be steadfast in your resolve to hear these crimes through? Will you act, or will you mentally flail when I describe horrors beyond your imagination? Please understand I demand action for these transgressions. I shan't speak to a dump truck full of bowling balls.

The day that shall live in infamy started like any other at Chez Faulty, although I would be remiss to tell you that I suspected treachery when I was fed only a tiny portion of canned food whilst the other beasts indulged in far greater portions. I ignored this first warning to my peril and did not mobilize my mental and physical faculties until it was far too late.

The second warning I brushed aside was when I was loaded onto Don's truck without the other rabble. It was just Don and me in that truck as we sped off. It screamed of the time I was abducted and brought to a foreign land and tortured for days and forced to endure hurricanes and and endless hours in Don's truck. The third warning was Don talking to me using a sickening-sweet voice that he reserves for dullards, idiots, and children. I suppose I hoped it was a special day and that I was being treated to something special indeed. I was lost in a whimsical, foolish fantasy when I was, in fact, being systematically prepared for slaughter.

With that third warning unheeded, I was a mere twig in a raging torrent of terrible fate.

Are you hooked? Must you know exactly what happened to my youngest dog?

Just click here: