I was just picked up from my annual “Christmas Kennel Hiatus” as it has become traditionally known. It is in this kennel where I spend all Christmas day in a cage since the spoiled little shit teenagers they hire to take us out for pee breaks refuse to work on Christmas because they’re too busy at home opening presents from their schmuck parents. They probably didn’t even get what they want!

But more to the point, has anyone seen that movie Year of the Dog? I will shit nails if anyone tries to pull that adopt-them-all shit around me. Keep your fleas and ticks and what have you at your respective rescue centers, thank you.

Instead of being caged on Christmas, I could be stowed with luggage on a plane and swifted away to a winter wonderland. But I never get taken because I’m too much of a “hastle”, which I’m pretty sure is a German word for “loyal”. It’s good to have some time away from loved ones, you know!

It’s like everytime I leave the house now, “Oooh Scout! When are you going to update your blog?” That’s all anyone ever talks about to me, the blog, THE BLOG!

I’ll tell you when I’m going to update my blog: WHEN I’M GOD DAMN GOOD AND READY!

I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. That’s what Daddy said. He said I’m his little man and I can update my blog whenever I please. And also that I’m “goodboy” for not barking when I saw this mutt bitch outside the window. She was so close though. Fifty feet, tops. I didn’t bark though. Gee golly, no I did not. I “bruffed,” but that’s not barking, it’s just making a “bruff” noise as if to indicate I long to bark. I did bruff though. I PLEAD GUILTY TO BRUFFING, EVERYONE!

She comes a foot closer, I break out into a full-blown howl. Let’s just keep that between you and I.

Some obsessive fan wannabe that got shot down after making some advances on me is now on her period and bleeding all over the place. Instead of spending time mopping up blood and shopping for tampons, she’s writing 1,000-word entries in her blog about me. Normally I would be flattered by the attention, but just like the second verse in my new rap hit “Quartz For Whores” says, “bitches with snitchy faces ain’t gettin’ shit from me for dey bertdayz!” Also, once I saw this lady who was pushing a stoller and the baby looked like several bags of groceries and she didn’t even put them in car seats, she put them in a net in the back of her Tahoe. I tried to call child protective services but the lady said if I didn’t calm down and speak slower, she was going to hang up on me. Even the flea climbing into my pee hole right now knows ain’t no government employee bitch going to hang up on me ever!

Before responding to this female humanoid, I did check to make sure I’m not bleeding out of my vagina. It’s always a bad idea to say things to people on the internets when your vagina is gushing blood. Thankfully I wasn’t cursed with a vagina, so I have nothing to worry about. I was given a cock, and two balls, (which were later removed due to high potency):

Check the titles, Scout. The very first entry on the page is all capital letters, followed by way too many exclamation points, and then followed by the number 1. I guess Scout lost his grip on the Shift key when he got to the end of his “Exclamation Point Rampage”.

I had to take internet humor 101 when I was locked in a cage for two weeks while my food-pourer traveled overseas. I don’t see why this female human hasn’t had to take this class too.

There are no links. Scout apparently only blogs to talk about himself, because he certainly doesn’t link to anyone else for reference points. I guess Scout has a pretty big ego, but unfortunately for him, his ego problem is giving him a comment problem. If he took time to give other people props, he might get some traffic and some comments. Read our tips on tricking out your blog.

Look, the Internet isn’t as dog friendly as it used to be. If my website gets too famous, they’ll do to me what they did do Rover. You remember, Rover right? Hmmm, maybe I’ve said too much already.

This blog is written from the point of view of a dog. Yes, that is correct, a dog. I have four dogs, and I hope to heck that they don’t think like this dog apparently does! I wouldn’t even let my dogs play with this dog, with his dirty mouth and antagonist attitude. Scout seems very angry all the time, and I just don’t think that’s too appealing.

What makes you think I’d want to play with your dogs?! They’re four yorkie whores that are too busy turning tricks at the dog park to blog intelligently.

Guys, true story, last week, I saw her four dogs tag teaming a French Bulldog for a payment of two milk bones. Have you sniffed the ass of a French Bulldog? I have, and believe me, no amount of milk bones would ever let me come near that thing again. Sixty. Maybe for sixty I would.

I’m too universalistic to respond to this jobless ho’ anymore, I have asses to sniff and children to growl at.