In case you are wondering why America is getting so hard to live in, here is a tip: sneaky liberals and cats.
Back when I was a young dog, I did not mince words. When the bipeds in charge said, "Do not go there," I went anyway. If there was a catnip toy I wanted to eat, I ate it. If some idiot in short brown pants came to the door with a package, did they think I was going to kiss him? If I had sat around following all the rules, where do you think I would be today? You do not get rich by following the rules. You have to cheat and marry well.
The liberals are always coming up with ideas to make your life miserable. "Curb your dog." "Special weight control formula" "Miss Meow's Veterinary Clinic."
Before in my newsletter and blog I told you about my special friend, Barney Bush. Sometimes when you say "special friend," they think you are a twinkie. That is because of liberals. In my blog I tell it like it is.
Barney has a sister called Miss Beazley. Miss BEAST-ly would be more like it. She is a Scottish Terrier, but that is all she has in common with Barney except they went to Paraguay for a test run. Whatever that means. The last time I saw Barney he was loaded on Champagne, but you cannot blame him. His life is a pressure cooker.
Well, Miss Beazley is a liberal communist. I am sure of it. I do not know how to break it to the White House. It is my duty as a loyal Welsh-American, but what if they never invite me to parties again? I have my business to consider. I am a jobs-provider. I am famous. Why should I take any heat?
My cousin Hogan is a police dog. He came from the pound. I will let him handle this. He would not ever get invited to an 'A'-list party anyway. So he does not have anything to lose. If they send him to Gitmo, he could learn Spanish. I hear the food is excellent.
Meanwhile, I will try to get the story about Paraguay from Barney, but that damned Miss Beazley is always listening in on the extention. You are not safe anywhere.
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