This is why mom doesn't buy me nice things ....

Call it a compulsion, an addiction or a brief lack of judgment — whatever the term, mom wasn't happy. 

The day started just as any Sunday but I knew something was different when mom had some nicely wrapped gifts set by the door. Before I knew it, I was buckled into my doggie seat belt in the passenger seat of the car. I love riding in cars but that's another blog post in itself. Back to Sunday. 

I was excited to see my cousin's (Bubbles') house as the car rolled to a stop. A hop, skip and a jump and I was in the door, playing with Bubbles while mom carried the gifts in for the belated-Mothers' Day/birthday gathering. (By the way, did you know humans have their own birthdays? Apparently, this litter thing doesn't apply to everyone.) 

Before I tell the rest of the story I need to give you a little background on Bubbles. She's a few years my senior and always has the coolest toys! Mom says she has so many because she doesn't chew them to death like me but I'm not buying that excuse. Anyway, Bubbles decided to get out this stuffed lamb she calls "Lamikins." Now I tried to control myself. Believe me, I tried ... but the temptation was too much. I grabbed that Lamikens and sank my teeth into the soft cloth, clamping down until the stuffing was flattened. There my teeth stayed  — tighter and tighter — a little pull here — a little tug there — and then ... 
 

  

... and I'm not even sorry.
I guess this is why mom doesn't buy me nice things. 

And that's what I'm mulling over today. 

Your friend,
Murphs