Wednesday

Yesterday Dad was teaching me how to read the newspaper. I really think it would be more fun if he would wad it up into a ball and throw it for me so I could tear it apart. Now that would be fun.

Today Mom gave me a bath. I didn't even get into the black squishy stuff but, she said I was dirty and needed a bath. I really don't care for the bath. In fact, I really think I could learn to hate it. But, Mom told me she wouldn't allow me on the bed anymore unless I got a bath so I let her bathe me.

I get sort of cold after I get out of the big tub. Mom dries me with this big noisy machine that spits out hot air. The hot air feels good except it doesn't dry me fast enough to keep me from shivering. I try to look forlorn in hopes that Mom will not give me any more baths but I don't think she's buying it.

The best part about the whole thing is when she's finished I get a treat. That's my favorite thing. Or, maybe the belly scratching is my favorite thing or maybe sitting in Mom's lap. Oh, and then there's chasing birds. Yea, I think chasing birds is my favorite thing. Do I have too many favorite things?