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Subject:Terry.
Time:01:20 am


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Hi, I’m Terry, a Golden Retriever. Ed’s babysitting me for three days; but he’s away at work right now and I’m bored out of my fucking mind.

He left the TV on for me, but what made him think I liked Animal Planet? After consecutive episodes of “Emergency Vets” and “Animal Cops,” I prayed for opposable thumbs so that I could shoot myself. I thought about licking my balls, but I’ve licked them so thoroughly by now that I can practically see my reflection. SO I thought I’d go online and write an entry in Ed’s gay online journal.

Now, you might be wondering, “How the hell is a dog writing a blog entry?” But that’s just the type of dogist ignorance we canines have come to expect from you humans. First of all, my mom was a seeing eye dog and my dad was a bomb-sniffing dog for the police - which means my parents were way smarter than your parents.

Secondly, if you must know, I’m quite Web-savvy. In fact I had one of the first accounts on dogster.com, that is until an ex-girlfriend found my page and kept stalking me ‘til I was finally forced to shut down my account ... that psycho woman (NOTE: We dogs use ‘woman’ the same way you humans use ‘bitch.’ Isn't irony wacky sometimes?).

Dogs don’t need the Internet anyway. Instead of surfing the Web, we surf the sidewalks and smell urine. It’s like our message board: You find out who had what for dinner, who’s got worms, who got knocked up, the medal count at the Olympics, and – most importantly – which bitches are hungering for some pornstar action. Even better is sniffing the butthole, which is basically our version of instant messaging.

Ed doesn’t seem to understand this. I’ll give him credit for walking me twice a day, but I don’t sense that he enjoys it as much as I do. Particularly when I’m pinching a loaf. "Goddamn, you crap twice your size. Elephants don't poo that much," he muttered, like it was a bad thing. I don’t get you humans. When a dog grunts out a five-pound turdpile, this is considered to be god-like for us, not an act of repugnance.

Despite his cluelessness, we get along just dandy. Why just the other day he turned to me and said, "You're alright, Terry. I'm glad I didn't eat you." I'm surprised he joked like this, as Koreans tend to be sensitive about the fact that some of them make soup out of us. Ed's reasoning was that just as many white humans eat testicles, which he considers to be far more disgusting. I guess given the choice, I'd rather eat me too.




Here’s a pic of Ed and I watching some art house flick called “The Dreamers.” If you’ll notice, I got the couch while he’s stuck on the floor like some little woman. Ed seemed mesmerized by the actress, who’s pretty much naked for the entire movie. “Those are some impressive mammies,” he said. I don’t see what the big deal is, she’s only got one pair of teats - what’s so impressive about that?


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If there’s one thing I regret about being a dog – other than the inability to kill cats with my mind – it’s this damned irrepressible need to please others. According to the Dog Bible, it’s our punishment for when the first dog disobeyed God and sniffed the Forbidden Anus.

You know what? This journal writing thing wasn't as fun as I thought it'd be. I'm going back to licking my balls.


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