Confessions of a Conehead

Hi everyone. Maxx here. I’m filling in for Dad this week because he’s become rather frustrated with me. Why, you ask? Well, have you ever heard the expression, “What a pisser?” I’ve been doing a lot of that lately – inside the house. But it’s really not my fault. After all, I never asked to wear the Cone of Shame, and I’m quite sure I didn’t ask to get neutered. So if I’ve been a little lax with my restroom manners lately, it’s because it’s a lot easier to sniff the smooth floors in the house than the grass outside. I mean, come on – outside, whenever I lower my head to find the perfect spot, bang! – my stupid cone hits the ground and jams into my neck! Now that really ticks me off – just not enough to relieve myself. No, sir. So, until this doggie megaphone comes off, I’ll keep using the indoor plumbing. (Sorry, Folks.)

Now, don’t think that I’ve gone completely mad. After all, I’m only six months old, and I do use the pee pads most of the time. Frankly, I think that’s rather considerate of me. But what’s really funny is when I poop in the house. Get this – I work all day creating these presents and go to great lengths to leave them in obscure spots. So, what do you think Mom and Dad do when they find them? They bring me over there and show me – as if I didn’t know where I left them – and then tell me not to do that inside the house. Their lectures can be pretty amusing, too, considering how limited my vocabulary is. Thank goodness I know how to type! Otherwise, you’d never hear my side of this story.

I’ve been wearing the Cone of Shame for six days now, and I’m pretty sure I get it off today. If that happens, I’ll gladly start peeing and pooping outside again. Maybe not 100% of the time, but I promise I’ll make a concerted effort.

Oh, as long as I’m whining, let’s talk about my parents’ name-calling. Let me tell you, they can be pretty hurtful at times. It was bad enough when they called me "Foo-foo", but now that they’ve decided to nickname me "King Fuafuapepepupu", I can’t help but growl. How they came up with this, I’ll never know – especially since I’ve never even been to Hawaii. Just wait, Mom and Dad. One of these days I’ll grow up and then – okay, I’ll still be Foo-foo, but at least I’ll be a man! What? Neutered means I’ll never be a man? You mean I’ll always have this squeaky voice? You say the Vienna Boys Choir is hiring? Yip, yip! Who knew life would be so hard for a little pup?