Momma keeps talking about being grateful these days. She goes on and on about appreciating life and living out loud and all this other stuff.
I’m just like, duh mom.
We haz a house. I haz some fishy doggy food. I iz furry and awesome. I haz a ducky and a squirrel and a fluffy bed that’s less fluffy cuz I got carried away while mom was gone…
Dis morning I found a SHOE. And a really big stick. And I chased an ugly bird. And then I got breakfast and had some toast. I love toast. Toast is da bestest. Then I took a nap on the picnic table in the sunshine. Iz gud morning… until mom started singing and dancing and I got worried. It was something like…
“Damn, I got it all figured out
I got no worries that I’m worried about
It’s like I caught some crazy, happy disease
Damn, it feels good to be me.”
I don’t know about anybody named Uncle Kracker or Kid Rock. What kind of names are those? Those are only good names for old pigeons. And the way momma dances, I am sincerely worried she is crazy. So I hid. But I iz glad when momma is happy. Cuz if momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. I iz thankful for the bad dance moves then and terrible singing.
I like being alive. Iz gud day to be alive, every day.
Especially if I find a shoe.