Tough weekend!

This weekend was pretty brutal. It all started with our semiweekly trip to Target. Mom had the keen idea to go into PetSmart before heading to Target so I could look at the dogs and cats up for adoption. I thought this was a great idea, especially since mom has yet to get me the puppy she promised me WEEKS ago. Apparently, all of the dogs had already been adopted or either they had left for the day because there were no puppies at the store. Thanks a lot for getting my hopes up... I guess I'll just have to live with Maya the cat a little while longer. I don't understand what her problem with me is. She's so aloof and every time I try and pet her, she runs away. Mom tells me that petting and pulling fur are totally different and that Maya gets a little annoyed when I pull her fur. Whatever, mom! I need a puppy... I'm a puppy person... friendly, happy, and loyal.

After that, I was really looking forward to going to Target. It always seems like mom always goes through the toy ailse at Target... they have some great stuff, none of which mom ever buys for me. It's like a big tease every time we go. All I got to play with when I got home was a plastic shopping bag and a bag of paper napkins. Whoopee! Why did I get a cheapskate for a mom?

The weekend didn't get much better after that. After church, mom and dad went to lunch with some friends. Usually going to a restarant means that I get strapped into an uncomfortable wooden chair. It also means that I don't get to play with any of the fun toys just begging to be held (i.e. salt shakers, knives, forks, etc.). Mom thinks I'll poke my eye out. After about an hour of listening to mom, dad, and their friends drone on and on and on, I decided to throw a bit of a fit... works like a charm. Mom took me out of the torture chamber and held me for a while. What she doesn't realize is that I WANT DOWN!!! I tried to wiggle out of her arms and proceeded to bang my head on the table. It hurt! I even forgot to breathe for a while before I started screaming. Now I have a bruise on my forehead. At least the ladies like battle scars, from what I understand.

Being a baby is hard! Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Love,

Weston