Friday, July 31, 2009

I Simply Remember My Favorite Things

With all of the rain we've been having, I've had to try various things to stave off the blues. I'm made for the snow, man! I've got a butt made for sitting on glaciers all day - not walking around in monsoons! So I've been thinking a lot about other times and other places. I've especially been thinking about old road trips (awesome!) and the strange, new worlds I've marked as my own (see the rest area just east of Dickens, TX above). If only I could mark the entire world [sigh] . . .


Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Dissatisfied with My Morning Meal

These "diet" portions my monkey-person is giving me in the mornings are totally unsatisfactory. So I walk around the house in a daze of dissatisfaction and murderous resentment. Finally, I just have to sit under the dining room table and try to chill out before I do something I might later regret.


Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Catching Up with Gus-Gus

I recently received this self-portrait from my (Omega) friend Gus-Gus. Apparently, he thinks there's nothing wrong with simply sitting in a monkey-pup's pool for hours at a time. I'm sure this keeps you cool, Gus. But it must completely infantilize you in the eyes of your ape-keepers. And what about your self-respect? Well, I guess that's what makes you an Omega . . .

Looking forward to dominating you again soon!



Monday, July 20, 2009

Nap Time in My Bunker

After a morning full of marking territory, chasing squirrels - pooping! - and a hearty meal of weight-control dry food, it's time for a well-deserved nap inside the protective confines of my personal bunker.

Disturb me at your own peril!


Thursday, July 16, 2009

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

They Can Take My Stick When . . .

They can take my stick when they . . . oh to hell with 'prying it from my cold, dead fingers'! I'm one of the Eight Chinese Immortals!! They are never going to get this stick away from me!!!


Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Bored at the Beach

What it is about "the beach" that makes the monkey-people go so gaga? I don't get it. It is an almost uniformly odorless, lifeless stretch of finely ground up rocks baked by the sun to a temperature that makes fur (glorious fur!) all but superfluous. I just hate it. If there hadn't been an open bag of bone marrow treats on the other side of that log (above), I might not have raised my head out of my little patch of shade at all that day.