Well, it certainly took him long enough! I cannot tell you how hard I’ve tried to get through to that goody-four-shoes! Seriously, how many times do I have to listen to Beagle Man telling his dog park buddies, “Kemba’s not really food-obsessed. At least not like
Ricky was.” And what’s so terrible about being food-obsessed, anyway? It’s not like I see the Beagle Man starving himself. Anyhoo — I’ve been whispering in the little redhead’s ear for more than three years now: Don’t settle for the kibble . . . the good stuff’s on the table . . . just wait till they’re not looking. Finally — finally! — he got up the nerve to go for that birthday cake last month. And then, a few days ago, he snagged a whole roast chicken breast, and really went to town on it! (Before he got busted, of course.) Now, there’s no stopping him. Way to go, K-Dawg! You done me proud! And look how tall he’s gotten. He can get his paws on the counter without even jumping, to get the lay of the land up there. Man, if I’d had that kind of height, I would have been one fat Beagle.
The Roof Rack Report used to appear regularly on Mondays. Now it appears once in a blue moon, when Beagle Man deigns to give me some space . . .
Leave a Reply