According to the New York Times, more and more dogs are taking psychoactive drugs. There’s a whole article in the magazine.
My mom Cathy wonders if I can take a pill so I will stop chewing.
You won’t catch me doing drugs though. I chew because I like the taste of socks. Anxiety is not a word in my vocabulary. If I were any calmer I’d be a zombie.
Why don’t those dogs just get more exercise? Friday I went off to Magnuson Park with my Aunt Sara. I ran for over an hour. I was exhausted.
Today Cathy dropped me off in the dog lounge while she ran some errands. She told the staff, “Gracie will probably be tired. She’ll want to snooze on the couch.”
Hah. As they told Cathy, I barked till they put me in the exercise area with the other dogs. I wanted to play!
Now I’m sprawled out on Cathy’s bed, sound asleep.
Not a neurotic bone in my body.
The cats, however, are another story. Especially that ditzy calico who eats my food. My food? Everybody knows cat food tastes better. Creampuff needs a chill pill.