Apparently my master thinks I’m an asshole. Well, big deal. I can tell you the feeling is mutual.

If you don’t think he’s an asshole, then explain to me why he wants me to call him my “master,” like I’m in frickin’ “I Dream of Jeannie” or something. Hell, if I was a genie, I’d blink my eyes and transport myself to some poodle harem. And then I’d turn Nick into a cockapoo, if for no other reason just because the name fits him. Anyway, he’s not my “master” – he’s my captor.

Yeah, he’s my captor, ‘cos I can’t leave the house without him, and I have to wait for him to give me water and food. He’s even forgotten to feed me for several hours when he’s lost in some stupid coding frenzy. It’s not like I can order a pizza – I have to wait for the geek to get away from his computer before I can eat, and even then, he gives me the same boring dog food night after night. How ’bout a little variety now and then, pal? The only reason I lick peoples’ feet all the time is so I can taste something different (btw, people taste like chicken – just thought you’d want to know that).

He even complains that I won’t protect his family from intruders, like that’s supposed to be my job or something! Look, buddy – I’m a 15-pound dog, and you’re a 170-pound man. Yet somehow I’m the wimp in this situation?

And I’m amazed that he bitches about me waking him up at night so I can go outside. First he complains that I pee on the floor, then he complains when he has to get his butt out of bed to let me outside so I can avoid staining his precious carpet. It’s an ugly carpet anyway – I’m just adding a little color.

So, he doesn’t like it when I pee on the carpet? Well, what does he expect after getting me neutered? There I was thinking I was going for a nice car ride, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up in the vet’s office and I discover that my cherries are seedless, if y’know what I mean. I figure that peeing anywhere I damn well please is payback for getting me snipped.

Oh, and to make matters worse, after he neutered me, he brought Gypsy – a sexy female dog – into the house. What a frickin’ tease! Do you think he’d like it if I had him castrated and then invited Angelina Jolie to come stay with us?

Anyway, enough of this – my paws are getting all gummy from using Nick’s keyboard (he never cleans the damn thing). I may not be a perfect dog, but I just wanted y’all to know that my master captor isn’t exactly a shining example of his species, either.

Peace out, folks.