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Gizmo goes on a Diet!
Posted at 1:55 PM, Mar. 13, 2007
This month, I’m afraid I’ve got some really bad news for you. I’ve been put on a DIET! It all started when my female human took me to that dog doctor. Now, mind you, there is NEVER anything good that happens at that place. As I recollect over years past, it seems that every time I’ve been there, something gets lopped off, poked, prodded or even less desirable procedures that I won’t go into here. Anyway, this dog doctor put me on the scale and said I was “too fat”. TOO FAT?!? How can that be? I eat right, I exercise and yet, I’m fat? Okay, so maybe I haven’t been exercising all that much lately, but surely that is not my fault. I have to have a human hooked to the end of the leash to make that happen, right? And who can refuse those tempting nummies offered up so frequently?
So, after the disappointing news from the so-called “dog doctor”, I now find myself limited in my food intake. “What’s the big deal?” you ask? The big deal is that Stoopid is NOT on a diet. I know I’m just a dog (although a very smart one) but for the life of me I can’t figure out why I’m considered obese and he’s not. Supposedly he only weighs 11 pounds and I tipped
the scales at 13. That didn’t sound like much to me until the dog doctor started telling the female human that 2 pounds on me is like 20 on her. Hmmmmm….
When the female human was telling the male human about my predicament, I overheard him saying something about sending me to “Fat Camp”. I don’t know about you, but anything with the word “camp” in it can’t be all bad. Where do I sign up?
Wait just a minute! It suddenly dawned on me. I know why I’m 2 pounds heavier than “Stoopid”. I’m at least 100 times smarter than he is, so that would mean my brain would weigh more, right? Also, I’m sure the heavy collar with all the tags on it probably makes up the difference. Not to mention all the hair on me. Now I just have to convince the humans.
Until then, I just have to hope and pray that there will be lots of overnight trips to Grammie’s house, because I know she’s not as tough with me. Remember, she’s the one who gives me a Beggin’ Strip just for doing my “business”. All I’ve got to do at Grammie’s is just give her the big “Gizzie” eyes and I can have whatever I want. I mean, I even eat off of a china plate there, and get my face washed with a warm pink washcloth. (Promise you won’t tell anyone about the pink washcloth, okay?) Just maybe, I’ll tell Grammie about that cool Burger King place...
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