Get Your Squeak On
Oh, why, hello there, dear friend. Don’t you look lovely today! Why, yes, the weather is quite temperate and delightful. What’s that you ask? What’s this amazingly awesome super-amazing thing I’m doing?
Oh, it’s no big deal. I’m just CHEWIN’ ON MY SQUEAKER.
OMG GUYS – first things first – this is the last week to contribute to Sid’s Treat Fund!!! We’re already raised a spectacular $605 towards replenishing my treat funds after my parents used all my treat money to get the wart colonies off my face and get me off steroids and get me tested for allergies and get me started on allergy shots – THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ENSURING THAT I WILL NOT GO WITHOUT TREATS!!! YOU GUYS ARE ALL WELCOME TO VISIT PLANET COOL SID VIA ROCKET SHIP ANYTIME EVEN IF YOUR PASSPORTS AND VISAS AREN’T UP TO DATE!!! My treat jar will be up on the blog until September 1st, so tell all your friends to tell their friends and so on and so on – and remind them that if they contribute to my treat fund, they’ll get all sorts of COOL stuff. Here’s the link to the original post with all the goodies and info: SID’S TREAT FUND.
Now, back to this squeaker business. HOLY MOLEY, GUYS. THIS IS GONNA BLOW YOUR MIND.
You know all your toys that you love cause they’re all fluffy and fuzzy and soft and you like to nestle with them and nurture them and care for them because you really could’a been a good pop someday if things had turned out differently but somebody decided to neuter you so you just have to deal with it, and really, honestly, every time you chew on these toys they squeak, which is awesome, but they only squeak with you squeak them, whereas if you were actually a dad and these were little mini-Sids they’d have their own independent mini-brains so they’d be squeaking whenever they want to squeak and soon they’d get older and they’d have their own hopes and dreams and ideas about how much time they want to spend with their awesome dad and they’d find their own Timothy Buttons and they’d go A WHOLE WEEK without calling but you’d be okay with it because you want them to be competent pugs with happy lives but you just wish those lives involved more time with their FATHER and, you know what, if you bark at your toys, they’re never going to bark back, and your toys aren’t going to leave you unless you leave them which you’d NEVER do and…
IF YOUR TOY GETS RIPPED YOU CAN OPEN IT UP AND THERE’S THIS AWESOME PLASTIC SQUEAKER INSIDE. Can’t do that with a kid, that’s for sure.
Now, this squeaker needs no nurturing. In fact, all this squeaker needs is to be repeatedly tossed into the air by your parents so you can catch it in your shark-like JAWS OF STEEL.
And over again.
Okay, I kinda whiffed that last one, but that’s more because of Dad’s throwing than my catching.
Yeah, that’s the one downside about squeaker-toss – the HUMANS have to be involved. Which means it turns into A WHOLE PROCESS.
FIRST they make me “Leave it,” which means I can’t touch it until they say “Okay.”
GIVE ME A BREAK.
Sometimes I try to touch the squeaker anyway (treats, too, when they make me leave them), but Mom and Dad are real sticklers for stupid rules.
FIGHT THE POWER!
Then Dad counts to three (why three? who knows) and throws the squeaker into the air. If I’m lucky, he throws it somewhere in my general direction. Otherwise I must compensate for his lack of throwing abilities.
And then, once we’re all tired, I just get to lie in my bed and chew on it until my parents go out or something because heaven forbid I be trusted to not SWALLOW a giant disk of plastic that I LOVE and would do ANYTHING to protect.
SID + SQUEAKS 4EVA
(Oh, and Mom says I’m also supposed to tell you guys to make sure the little squeaker mechanism in the squeaker isn’t swallowed by any cr-cr-crazy pugs out there…she lets me chew it until the squeaker mechanism gets loose, and then she pulls that little whistle part out, and then I just get to play with the non-squeaking giant disk part, which, honestly, is the best part anyway so BLERGH TO YOU, Mom)