Sadly, those of you who voted in the poll that Lacie and I wouldn't last until the weekend might be right. I voted that she'd found her own true love, me. And yet I was the only one who cast that ballot. Even Lacie herself didn't believe it...
Even my favorite toys couldn't console me.
And I was all set to send her this lovely cactus plant with her thorny roses,
snapdragons, and Venus fly trap. I'd even already written out the card...
"Dearest Lacie...I'm stuck on you. Love, Petey"
I guess I'll cancel my order for the blossoming crabapple...
Maybe I should order this instead. Because I fear our love has died.
Before it even had a chance to grow.
You see, I first got worried when just four days after our first date to Coney Island, she was mooning over Gussie's butt! And now that he needs surgery, she's talking about practicing "deep breathing exercises" and sleeping in the same bed with him.
And do you know how she signed off to Gussie? "Love and kisses, Lacie." How does she sign off on her posts to me? "Grrrrrrrrr barks, Lacie." ???
Even Asta knows - they call me Thumper over there because of the cute way I can wag my tail.
Well, you all know that I didn't want to get involved with Lacie until I was sure that she and Archie were a thing of the past and that he was fine with it and had moved on. He gave me his blessing to be Lacie's boyfriend and we celebrated by going to France for Tom's surprise birthday party. (Now Lacie, how many of your other "boyfriends" have surprised you with a trip to France???)
Apparently, Archie wasn't being quite so candid about his reaction to breaking up with Lacie. Catatonic was more like it.
When he awoke from his deep faint, he gazed toward the Heavens and told his sister Agatha, "I'm going to become a monk and live with Abby."
Hey knucklehead! THIS is an abbey where monks live....
They DON'T live with THIS Abby.
Anyhow, as soon as Lacie heard that Archie may be taking a vow of chastity, she was off like a bride's nightie. Something about having to administer psychological counseling or some such nonsense. It doesn't take a German Shepherd to know...
So I've decided to rally my fellas, starting with Archie. And now I'm putting out the bark to Noah, Tom, Eric, Scruffy, Baby Stan, Deetz, Stanley, Stanislaw, Mitch, Butch, Toby, Dewey, the Bark-a-lot boys, Deefor, Huskee Boy, Joe Stains and Tanner, Mango and PeeWee, Riley—heck, Jackson has had enough of those girls fawning all over him, he's coming, too.
Am I forgetting anybody in my excitement?
If you can pee on three legs, you're welcome to come along!
Boys, Spanky and Alfalfa may have had the right idea. (And after all, being named Petey, I know a thing or two about the Little Rascals!) It's not that we hate'em, we just need a break from them.
A Stag Party of sorts.
No Tanner, not THAT kind of stag.
The kind of party where you lather up with your Ladies' Man Soap with Hope,
And hop a charter flight on Aire Ruby to....VEGAS BABY!!!
I've already reserved the High Rollers Suites at the Ball-agio Hotel.
(Where else would we stay? And won't we have fun playing in that pool?)
We're gonna see us some scantily clad VEGAS SHOWGIRLS!!!!
And we're gonna hit the CRAPS TABLES.
(Note to self: Have a LONG talk with Mango and Joe Stains
about the CRAPS tables BEFORE we get there.)
So fellas, are you in? Leave me a comment if you want to come along for the ride of your life!
(Sorry, but ladies need not apply this time! Well, with the exception of Ruby, as she's got to fly the plane.) We'll lick our wounds, sniff some showgirl butt, and do some male bonding.
(That's BONDING, not HUMPING, got it? Good!)