Wednesday, March 23, 2011

I don't know who he is calling me small.
What I lack in the physical, I make up for in personality and command.

I can explain the photo: I only turned my back on him for a second. There was a flat squirrel, invisible to the human eye, in the backyard. Only I saw it, only I barked. This is why you have me posted here, among my many other assignments within the superstructure I am always alert, aware of my surroundings, aware of things no one else sees or hears.

Ever since Stanley showed up all he's done is take pictures and file reports, which is very suspicious; but from what I can tell he is completely unaware that he is made of paper and that to a dog, he is edible. He claims he's not a spy, and that he's innocently reporting to children in Australia about what it's like here in Canada. I don't trust him, though I don't consider him a threat. He seems to believe I am just a cute, sausage dog.
Even Mum and Dad know I can do him harm because they won't leave me alone with him, and always place him high on a bookshelf where (they think) I can't reach him. For now he's safe with them, but it's only a matter of time.

Mr. Mustard

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