Garbage Man

Like I said earlier, Mom likes to call me "Garbage Man." They sort of gave in and Dad installed a child-proof lock on the garbage side of the cupboard. Mom is always muttering, "I never had child-proof locks on any cupboards when my children were little ... " Anyway, seems it's not "terrier-proof". I was left out of the crate for about 20 minutes while they were both gone last night and somehow managed to strain the garbage through a three inch opening of the cupboard door. After all, there were chicken remnants in there that smelled so enticing. Dad told Mom he hit me but you know he didn't do that. He was actually pretty calmed down by the time Mom got home.

Even though I'm allowed to roam in my backyard domain more freely now, I find the area under the deck the most appealing. Mom keeps begging Dad to get the barrier put up around the base but he says we have to wait for better weather. I am thrilled to dig around in the dirt and get my paws, toenails and beard filthy. I'm hunting for varmints but so far just the smell of the cat is enough to lure me down under.