A few days ago my mom came home to find a twenty dollar bill chewed up. She immediately identified me as the guilty party.
“Gracie, if the bank won’t replace this bill, it’s coming right out of your treat budget. No treats for six months. Maybe a year!”
No big deal, mom. The fire fighters always give me a milkbone when we stop by the Arch Street station. The new mini-restaurant gives me treats. I get a treat every time we go to BoneJour, which is pretty often, since Pumpkin is eating us out of house and home.
I really scored on Halloween. Our local pet supply store, BoneJour sponsored a sort of scavenger hunt. My mom took me around. We went to a whole bunch of places. Each time I got a treat. After the first treat, my mom announced, “Gracie, we’re holding these goodies for later. We don’t want you to get sick.”
Bummer. But I’ll get them eventually. I saw them disappear into the treat box. And she forgot to put away the BEST treat, which I managed to find and gulp down while she was putting things away.
“You can NOT get sick in the middle of the hurricane,” my mom warned me.
No worries, mom. It’s a wholesome treat and I’m keeping it inside my tummy where it belongs.
Bluestone Art Gallery gave me this beautiful bandanna. That’s my Halloween costume this year. Free!