Another post

... Continuing the story

For the next year or so (the days blend together like a Saturday morning smoothie). My family tried to train me... which essentially meant doing everything in their power to reduce me to the status of family dog, which similar in rank to entry way doormat.

Once, in an attempt to break my will, and put me in my place. They took me to this creepy dog trainer, who lived in the heart of nowhere. He had this bumpy windy road that lead to his house, and I got quite ill in the endeavor to keep from slamming into the car door. When we arrived to his house (actually, it was his dog training building) he gave me all this nasty smelling food (he kept saying, "dog's love cat treats" and bits of overcooked hotdog. When ever I would sit, or lie down, he would shove more food at me, which made me cranky. I was already sick from the car ride, the food was like eating dog food with icing (which does not make it taste better), and I already knew how to sit and lie down on my own. And didn't need some long bearded weirdo telling me how to do it. Besides, 'SIT!' is a command, not a how to, he must have been mixed up.

My family says that I am un-trainable, and this is a harsh twist on the truth. I know perfectly well how to do what they wish, their problem is expecting me to do it when the tell me to. Again... I'm not a doormat!

Gotta run.