Featuring guest blogger, Mariah G.
Life here in America is good. I really can't complain, but I'll admit, somedays I'm a little perplexed. It's not that everyone is trying to confuse me, they just do.
Just to give you an example, on my first birthday, Mom gave me a giant piece of cake for my birthday, but no utensils to eat it with. I was so flustered by all the people staring at me that I just did what came naturally.
Then there's this 5th person that live with us. But she's not like Mom and Dad. She's a lot shorter and has white hair all over her body. What I find so hard about it is that, no matter how I try, she doesn't seem to like me.
In April, Mom and Dad looked really happy when they fitted me with a pair of white, fuzzy ears. I think maybe it's their long term plan to turn me into something like our rude houseguest.
I find this pretty distressing, because all I ever really wanted was to grow up to be a little girl.
It appears there's a lot that goes in to training to be a fuzzy person. Early each morning, Mom starts us off with calisthenics.
That gets us all warmed up for Greco-Roman wrestling class.
Ooooh! That hurt!
Then there's the Emergency Training class. Oh-NO!
Elisha's in trouble!
Somebody call 9-1-1!
Music class comes next and so on and so forth...
So, to sum it all up, I have no idea what's going on around here. I just hope my likely future as a fuzzy person brings me true happiness.