On a diet...

I was taken to the vet on Monday. No dog likes vets, of course, but as you must know by know, my vet is fawesome. So I didn't really have a problem with that. What I did have a problem with, though, was the urine sample that mom was trying to collect before the appointment.

I am a dog with manners. A dog with dignity. I walk off leash like a gentleman. And all of a sudden I have this crazy human following me, sticking a plastic container under me every time I lift my leg. Not cool.

So I made sure the mission failed, by stepping right into the container after "collection". As a bonus, I managed to make mom sprain her ankle twice in the process. She drove to the vet with her foot on the wheel (hurray for automatic cars!) and cursing at me at regular intervals.

When we got to the vet's, another shock awaited mom. My weigh-in showed 63lbs. That's 11lbs OVER my last weigh-in in October. Mom knew I had gained some weight when Kiril, who had not seen me for 4 months, called me "little sausage". But she didn't think it was that bad. Why she didn't think so, after force-feeding me 50lbs of fish and tripe, is beyond me.

So now I am on diet. An involuntary one, I might add. I am convinced that mom does to me whatever she can't or won't do to herself. B!tch.