[Dailydrool] Merta Lou's problem

[Pamela McQuade via Dailydrool]

Dear Ms. Merta Lou:

I think you are living with my foster mom's sister. Or maybe they talked 
on the phone and hatched a plot. Anyway, I am in exactly the same 
situation concerning being last for everything (even going in and out of 
doors!)



I came to this inferior place a couple of weeks ago. I was visiting a 
fenced-yard place, not so different from my home. It had lots of 
interesting smelling animals like goats and birds. But the foster humans 
came and picked me up and brought me to this place where I can only go 
out on a leash. No fenced-in yard at all. Imagine the indignity!



The two dogs here are really wussy--of course they are boys. They badly 
needed a boss, and as we all know, basset females are the only bosses. I 
stepped in and began to tell them what to do. Despite all my efforts, 
one of them, called Dexter, did not get the drift at all. He will not 
look me in the eye, which proves I am top dog, but he usually walks too 
close to me. So I began to retrain him with nips to his ears. The foster 
mom did not like that at all--she says he is "blind," whatever that 
means, and I put holes in his ears.


One night I heard the woman talking on the phone. Before I knew it, I no 
longer got fed first. I could no longer go through doors like a lady 
(first, that is). Like you, I am last in everything. It is so sad.



The woman keeps saying "nothing in life is free," but she seems to be 
getting a free ride here. I am the one who can't do anything right and 
have no "privileges." I try to lie on the couch and chair, and she makes 
me go on the floor. Why do those wussy boys get the good spots? I ask. 
THEY can sleep on the couch and chair.


Then the last straw. Last night, the indignity, I had to sleep in a 
crate! I overheard the woman saying that she did not appreciate it that 
I had awakened the man with a fight (I had it with Dexter, of course). I 
was also accused of "stealing" Horton's bed and not letting "the boys" 
get to their beds. The woman really doesn't like that.


I was just making use of an empty bed, for Pete's sake! If Horton had 
wanted it, he only had to ask me for it and prove that he had the 
ability to take it. Isn't that the way it is?


I do not like being told what to do, especially when that sneaky-eyed 
Dexter gets to go first in everything. So I am pooping and peeing on her 
floors, no matter what she does. But even that is not enough.


I am plotting a breakout, Merta Lou. Maybe you would like to meet me, 
and we can find a perfect home where we can live as basset ladies need 
to, being fully in charge of the household. We will always tell the boy 
dogs what to do, and they will obey our every command. We will roam a 
huge yard in search of excitement every day.

Your friend in punishment, 
Cleo, the sad foster, living with the Dashing Bassets who never dash


PS I have only stayed here this long because the treats are really 
good--homemade chickie jerky. When those treats are gone, I'm outta 
here.