Dear Diary,
Early this morning I awoke with a horrible tummy ache. I climbed the stairs in absolute agony to find Momma and tell her all about my tummy ache. I barely made it into the kitchen when my stomach contents ejected all over the wood floor. The only thing worse than tossing your kibbles is doing so on a hard surface because then it splatters into your fur. That’s why I always make it a practice to do so on the carpeting. Momma prefers it when I vomit on the wood floor because she says it’s easier for her to clean up. Honestly, making Momma’s life easier isn’t my problem. She should know that by now.
Anyway, Momma had the audacity —It’s a word! Not an audio editor, Morons!— to sleep through my tummy ache. She woke up about an hour later and even though she slept through it, she still must have heard it because she went searching for my contribution to society. She found the first puddle of formerly-yummy-goodness right away. I sat and watched as she went searching for a second spot. When she found it, I cheered, “Way to go, Momma! You found the other Easter egg! I can die happy.” In case you’re curious, that’s called sarcasm.
That’s all for now, Preverts! This is Gwennie, signing off!
