From the Desk of Augustus Gloop

I know you know who I am. Mother would never have a blog without giving me a starring role.

My given name is Augustus Fred. My mother also callls me Gus, Gussie, Gump, Bumble, and many other things, including Augustus Gloop when she thinks I am snarfing food. Which is ridiculous and below me, by the way.

Behold my kingdom: The Beach, The Mountains, the Snow, the Fields. Basically everywhere I am.

I lord over my kingdom like the true person king I am. I am not a dog. I need attendants like Geege to make sure my kingdom runs smoothly. I know we look alike, but Geege is a dog.

Geege serves a triple purpose in my life: he is a fierce warrior intent on protecting my kingdom from interlopers by barking the bejesus out of himself, he's the light hearted butterfly chasing court jester, and he's also my very best friend.

So happy together...how is the weather...bah bah bah bah bah bah bah bah

Geege prefers that I do the talking while he keeps watch at the window. I prefer that too. I love the spotlight. Geege loves the window. It works.

The thing is, people, my mother thinks she's in charge here. But we run this fortress. Everything in it is for me me me...and Geege. In fact, Geege supervises every single thing Mother does, inside and out. Sometimes I like to saunter in to see what's going on and to make sure things are to my liking, but mostly you will find me reclining on top of pillows or outside in the sun. I enjoy chewing holes in blankets, but whenever I do that Mother comes in waving her arms and yelling. So I save that for when she's not home.

Do things always run smoothly here? No, loyal subjects, they do not. Allow me to introduce Exhibits A - H.

Exhibit A: When I was a puppy, Mother cordoned me off in the kitchen. I didn't like it, so I opened every cabinet, and took every single thing out. I opened every box of pasta, every bag of rice, I tore into the sandwich baggies, the tin foil, into everything. My parents would know my rage. I did this twice before they released me, discovered the second time by Mom Mom Sugar who came to liberate me. I rewarded her by jack assing around in the yard and not coming inside.

Exhibit B: I did not care for the furniture, so I gnawed off every wooden leg on every table and chair.

Exhibit C: My parents also had a total fit on the occasions where I dug in the trash and got out something they call tampons. I left them on beds and chairs and rugs. Father was always the one who would find them and I believe he may have had a few, what do you call them? Nervous break downs. Anyway, all the trash cans have lids now.

Geege is off chasing birds. He came to live with us when he was three so I can speak authoritatively on his behalf on the matter of his dirty deeds.

Exhibit D: He's sort of self conscious about it, but his breath? My parents always say this, and I shouldn't repeat it, so it'll just be between us - his breath smells like assholes. Literally like one thousand assholes. He's gotten so much dental work over the years he's been with us, the poor chap has no front teeth left.

Exhibit E: He also has this other thing. He marks. My parents got washable couches for this reason. I don't see the problem - he needs to let everyone know this is OUR house. He is drawing a line, people. We're always looking at Mother like "What pee smell? Please stop waving your arms and pointing at things and get us a treat."

Exhibit F: Nails. Don't touch our freaking nails. If you take us somewhere, I will howl like a banshee so loudly that the nail clipper will page mother over the loud speaker. And at the vet, Geege will have straight up diarrhea during nail clippings. Step off. Do I need to remind you of the incident when I lost a nail and got casted by Treat Lady? A freaking cast made of a rag, a maxi pad and duct tape? Everyone paid for that for weeks.

Exhibit G: Geege and I are pitching a TV show to NBC called The Delightful Adventures of Gus and Geege. We toddle out of the gate when it blows open and wander into neighbors' yards, or just stroll our regular route down the road. We're celebrities in this neighborhood, and the neighbors like to give us the royal treatment and escort us home to much fanfare. Our parents greet our arrival with thunderous faces. We don't know why. Hello we're a big deal around here.

Exhibit H: On walks, I always poop in front of the statue of man Jesus at the church. Why does mother cower in embarrassment? Are we not all God's creatures? I think Man Jesus can handle some pug poop. It's small.

Why do we do these naughty things?

IT'S ALL PAYBACK. Look at this insanity. Just look at it.

Don't worry - next Thursday Mother will go back to talking about parties. The only thing I like about parties is the food and the attention I get. And also beer. I like beer. So basically everything. Today I needed to take control of this page and share our truth. In summation, are not perfect. We are often naughty. But we are so cute you can't help but forgive and forget immediately.

Keep us in blankets, pillows, and treats. Let us be near our Mother, always. Stay away from our nails and put down the costumes. Then maybe we'll stop our antics.

But probably not. We're mischievous and funny and that's how we roll.

Shoutout to JMeoww.