My Current Life

Life here in fosterland isn’t all that bad. I have a nice, little cage with an attached 10-foot pen in the kitchen. I have all the fresh timothy & oat hay that I can eat. I get a small scoop of pellets and plenty of fresh greens every day. I petitioned the warden for Crispy Creme donuts in the morning, and unlimited supply of carrots for lunch, and pastrami grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner, but I haven’t heard back. The word on the street here among the other animals is that it doesn’t look good. Apparently, the warden is one of those healthy, organic nutjobs.

Since there are always lots of dogs here–rumor is that the warden never says no to foster dogs from the dog rescue–I don’t get as much personal attention and roaming time as I would like. Since not all of the dogs play nice with me, I can only come out when all of the dogs are put away in their crates. I prefer staying inside lounging under the dining room table and checking out the deep, dark places behind the couches in the front room. Since I’m so well-behaved, this isn’t much of an issue. The only downside is that the warden is really protective of the cords. THEY ARE MY FAVORITE. They just sit there BEGGING to be tugged on (just a little). The warden has been very complimentary. Since I’m not a “destructive chewer” like some bunnies and I only go #1 & #2 in my litter box, my doggy cousins said I’m probably safe from that crockpot on the kitchen counter. Not sure what that means…

I do love going outside in the backyard too. It’s like a giant pantry! Grass, leaves, and other munchies EVERYWHERE! I mastered the doggy door in about three seconds. I’m not sure why the idiot foster dogs need to be “trained.” Really, guys, it’s not that difficult to grasp!

See what I have to put up with sometimes?