Psssst......

Hey. It’s me, here. The one She calls “FurGirl”.

Guess who took that picture? Can you guess?

That's right, me.

Know why?

Because, trust me, nobody else around here is interested in taking my photo.
There was a time that all the photos were about me. I used to be the subject of EVERY photo.

Until this.
Yah. The teensy furry ball of stank.

Now it’s “Coochee-Coochee-Coo” 24/7 around here.

And I gotta sit around and listen to it.

Oh and as if that isn’t bad enough, She expects me to like It, too.

She’s been all, “Look, Isabelle, it’s your little sister!!” for a flippin’ week now.

Dude, I don’t have a sister. And if I did? It would not look like something a cat barfed up with feet.

Jeez.

She feeds It constantly. It eats, like, twelve times a day.

And me?

Oh, I’m lucky if She remembers to feed me every OTHER day. But, really who am I? I’m only the fearless guard dog who defended Her against that strange man who accosted her on Broadway that one time. Not to mention the thousand times I stared down the barrel of death for Her before the Evil Man finally took a hike.

Gah. Don’t even get me started on THAT subject.

Oh, and potty time. You would not believe. Every time the Hairball pinches the loaf you’d think it cured global warming.

It’s all, “What a good GIIIIRL,”and squealing and clucking and treats for, like, half an hour.

Meanwhile, I could be crapping nickels and never even get a glance.

Yesterday? After about the thousandth potty praising session, we FINALLY get to come back in the house (it takes FOREVER for the hairball to get it over with), and fifteen minutes later She’s all,

“Oh no, Tallulah! You’ve got a pooty hanging out of your butt!”

A “pooty”for God’s sake! And She wasn’t even PISSED about it!

I’m telling you, the first time I roll up in here with a turd hanging outta my ass? I guarantee you I won’t see a Milk Bone for a MONTH Maybe more

Cripes.

And don’t even get me started on the nights around here. Ohmygod…it’s in and out and up and down and in and out all freakin’ night long night after night!

I’m exhausted.

Last night? I’m just thinking f**k it, I’m sleeping in the guest room. And, wouldn’t you know it, she notices me for the first time in a week. She’s all,

“What’s the matter, Isabelle, why are you in the guest room at bedtime?”

Oh, gee, Lady, I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t want to live though another Night of the Sh!tting Hairball. What’s my problem? Gosh, I dunno.

Sure enough, I gotta haul my ass into her bedroom and suck up another night.

And then? She’s all,

“Hop up here and sleep with Mommy and Tallulah!”

Oh, absolutely, it’s my dream to snuggle up with the incontinent Hairball.

You know, I might not have control over much around here, but I sure as hell can stay in the floor if I want to.

That’s okay, because sooner or later? She’s gonna need me. There’s gonna be a bump in the night or some intruder or something, and then She’ll be all,

"Save me, Isabelle!”

And I might just rise to the occasion.

Then again, I might just not be available.

Due to a pooty hanging outta my butt.