You know, it seems like it should be my turn to talk. No Annabelle. No Tango.
I just heard my mom saying that it's time that Annabelle and I go to the groomer. Frankly, I like myself just the way I am. I was admiring myself in the mirror this morning. I looked adorable if I do say so myself.
If my mom had any sense, she'd like me that way too. In fact, if she gave it much thought, she could get rid of her dust mop and broom. Shoot...I have so much fur on the pads of my feet I could do the job they do in a heartbeat.
And I know how much Mom hates to clean. You should see her. She starts in the kitchen loading the dishwasher but before she gets to the floors she runs upstairs to get something she forgot. The next thing you know she disappears into her office and sits down at the computer.
Then the phone rings. Then she finds her riding boots and cleans the zippers. Then she comes back downstairs and opens the back door to shoo out a wasp. The woman can't stay focused!
Yep! In the time my mom wastes, I could do all the floors in the house. Besides that, it's getting colder outside. If I go to the groomer they're going to cut away all the nice warm fur off my feet. No slippers for me! What's a girl supposed to do?
Would you please try to talk some sense into my mom? She might listen to you!