Getting Into Trouble

I keep getting into trouble this week. I’m pretty sure it’s not my fault though. I’m just a hound, doing what houndies do, right?



Firstly, I escaped into the street and ran down the path chasing a cat. This was obviously Dad’s fault for letting me squeeze between him and the door frame. I’m hardly small, so he could easily have made the gap smaller. I didn’t get far anyway because a man caught me by the collar, and the cat jumped over a fence. I didn’t stand a chance of catching her. Needless to say, Mom was not pleased.


Then, I keep jumping on Mom’s flowers when I hear next door’s dog barking. That’s not my fault either, because if he didn’t bark, I wouldn’t do it, would I? I wouldn’t bother if he didnt bark at me. He stays in his own garden, and I think he has a bit of a cheek barking at me through the fence when I am minding my own business on my own grass!


Then, I tried to steal some meat at the weekend. I say tried, because I didn’t quite get away with it. I had a discreet sniff and had just managed to get my teeth around it when Dad walked in the kitchen and shouted. I was so surprised that I dropped it! I got into trouble for that even though I didn’t get to eat it, which seems very unfair! It wasn’t my fault the beef smelt so good!


And finally today I ripped up some carrier bags. Thats all, just some plastic carrier bags. There was no food in them unfortunately, just some tights and wrapping paper, but I had a jolly good time ripping them up. That wasn’t my fault either because if they hadn’t gone out without me, I wouldn’t have done it.


So all in all, I have been getting into trouble for doing things that houndies do, if given the chance. I am a hound, what do they expect? Huh?


6 thoughts on “Getting Into Trouble

  1. I agree. You’ve been set up! Don’t worry sweetie, it happens to all of us. By the way, great work on the bags. You created a very decorative artistic piece on the floor! xo


  2. Flattery feels your pain!
    I’ll tell you a story that might make you feel a little better. Years ago, when my angel sister Blueberry was a young hound, she was in the kitchen supervising Dad as he got ready to put a chicken into the roaster. Well, he turned around and Blueberry, who was as tall as a skyscraper anyway, grabbed that chicken that he left right in front of her and began to leave the kitchen. Dad yelled for her to stop and drop it and Blueberry ran away into the living room. Dad cornered her by the door and they had an epic wrestling match over that chicken. In the end, nobody got the chicken. Dad threw it away to make the point. Mom tried not to laugh at them, but she failed. That made Dad even more mad! They ended up going out for hamburgers for dinner! BOL!


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