Santa, I've Been Bad

I just don't get it. I really don't. I'm just a puppy. I'm cute. I'm cuddly. Yet, my parents seem to get mad at me a lot. And then, they only let me write here on their little blog thing when I've done something bad. I really don't get it.

So they built this nice, new, pretty fence. I watched the guys build it. I would watch them every day. In fact, they even left me some tasty chunks in the yard. But anyway, they built this nice new fence, and they kept telling me it was for me. They wanted me to be able to run around outside, so I would quite knocking stuff over in the house with my out of control tail. And they said I'm a dog so I should like it outside, but they are crazy. Its cold out here and its nice and toasty inside.

So, they've been putting me out here. And they just let me run free. I see them looking out the window every now and then, but they just let me go out here. And there is a lot of yard for me to explore.

And like they tell me, I'm a dog... so therefore, I like to dig.

And today, they put me outside after it had been raining for few days... and I dug. And I dug. And I dug some more.

Then they come running outside and yelling at me and saying bad dog. Dad was saying a lot of other stuff, but I can only understand so much. But I saw mom laughing. And dad even cracked a smile too.

So then, I got a bath. They didn't look to happy, but they started running the spicket outside and washing me and then drying me with a towel. They also took some pictures.

And now, I'm here writing this blog to tell of my adventures. They like to think it is like a punishment... but lets do the math:
- I got a fence
- I got to dig
- I got my picture taken
- I got a bath
- I got to share my adventures

So who's the winner here?

Brutus