Through the eyes of a dog

It was morning time and I had just been woken up by the constant shuffle of my owner in his usual morning routine. This routine included slamming the snooze button on the clock continuously, then finally dragging out of bed in a sudden rush to get to work. You see my master, Ted, was a procrastinator to the worst degree. In fact, if I had my say so around here, he would get up 2 hours early for work. But nobody listens to my opinion...just like ol' Hank the cowdog in his series. He always seems to know best but his masters don't listen to him one bit. They'd much rather pester him or call him "pooch." Boy do I hate that word, "pooch." I tell you what, If my master ever called me that I'd gnarl his couch to shreads, but luckily the thought of saying that has never dawned upon him. Now where was I...oh yes! The master had woken up and he was getting ready for work in a hurried manner when we both heard a smash in the back yard. He rushed outside with me behind him only to find that the neighbor had cut down a tree in the back yard. "Hey!", said Ted, "I told you not to cut down that tree till' I got back from work so I could help! Don't make me sick Ruffus on you!" After a short laugh from the neighbor, we both retreated back inside. By this time Ted had noticed the time and was running to the garage with his lunch in hand. "Bye Ruffus! Don't tear anything up while I'm gone!" Believe me, I thought, if he had called me pooch on the way out, I would have...