The Sky Journal for 4-27-2014

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ENTRY-April 27, 2014

WOW! What a week I have had.

First of all, I am now 11 weeks old and my world has really grown just in the last 10 days since I arrived at my new home. During that time a lot of exciting new adventures have unfolded, fun adventures. And one scary and not-so-fun adventure. By the way, be sure to click on the link just below my picture above and you will see some of my activity during that time. I asked my daddy, Fred, to document what I have been doing and he did a fairly decent job. We’ll see if he improves in the future.
From the very first scene in that documentary about me you will see an accomplishment of mine. What I still don’t understand is why I can’t just drop my deposit inside the house. My mommy, Vicki, is always trying to scoop me up just as I am getting started. I mean, really. I’m busy here, let me do my thing. But she and daddy want me to go to the big field they call the backyard to do my business. I just don’t get it. My daddy sighs when this happens and tells mommy, “…give her some time she’ll get it…she’s only a baby.” Well excuse me, I am a big girl now.
A couple of days ago daddy gave me this huge, and I mean huge yellow ball and said go play with it. Go play with it? I can’t get my mouth around this huge beast. But I do the best I can with it. I like to chew it. I like to chew the big yellow ball, my other toys, the furniture, and even my mommy’s and daddy’s fingers. They don’t like me to chew on their fingers. I don’t quite understand that either. They say “NO” and I flinch when they say it. I am beginning to think that the word “NO” has some meaning. I think it will come to me soon enough. My daddy sometimes says to me, “What part of NO don’t you understand?” Frankly, right now I don’t understand any of it.
And now to describe the pain and suffering I went through. Mommy and daddy took me to my first doctor visit last week. First of all, when we walked in there were so many smells and sounds in there, it was overwhelming. There was some lady sitting behind a big desk, mommy calls it a counter, that was way too friendly and forward with me. She started petting me and cooing about how cute I was. True about the cute, but don’t start grabbing me. A girl wants to get to know someone first before they can start petting and kissing me. That’s the Rules of the Dog (more about that in coming journal entries.)
Then I was taken to a little room where I was prodded and poked and stared at. I had a horrible bright light blasting me in my eyes, down my throat, and in my ears. This other lady in that small room, also pawing at me, stuck this huge, uh, pointy thing, up my rear end where the poop comes out. I think she said she was taking my temperature, whatever that is. It was in there for a long time. I heard this quiet beep and thank goodness it was pulled out. I mean how degrading was that experience? Have you had that done to you lately? Not a pretty sight I can tell ya.
Then his huge bear-like man came in and started poking and prodding me. He then pulled out this small plastic thingie and stabbed me in my side. I yelped, well wouldn’t you? I felt this cool liquid get pumped in just under my skin. For the rest of the day I was in a daze and dizzy and sleepy. They also gave me this sweet liquid forced into my mouth to take care of my worms. Worms? What are these strangers talking about? I don’t eat worms, yuch! I will eat just about anything, but not worms. I think those doctor people don’t know what they are talking about.
All in all, I can truly and honestly say I am never going back there again. But I think I heard my mommy whispering to the pushy lady at the counter “we’ll be back in three weeks.” Oh yeah, that’s what you think. When three weeks rolls around I am hiding under the bed. Mommy and daddy will never find me.
Well, I am recovered now and back to my old self. I still don’t quite understand this business about pooping and peeing out in the backyard my mommy thinks is so important.
Okay, time for my lunch…even more important than pooping or peeing. Gotta go. I’ll write some more next week. Bye
Frederick Fichman