Um… Iggy?

“What?”

Karen?

I know, Brian.  Look, Iggy, it’s nice that you’re sitting on command —

“Yes!  Yes, I am!  What’s the problem now?

Well, it’s just that —

“Hang on.  I’m itchy.”

Yikes.

“Okay.  What’s the problem?  You said sit, I sat.  I’m still sitting.”

Well, yes, Iggy, you certainly are.  We’re happy with what you’re doing–

“Good.”

What?

We’re pleased, Brian.  Iggy, we’re pleased.  It’s just that where you’re sitting is–

“Oh, now you wanna pick where I sit?  You know what?  NO.  I eat where you tell me to.  I sleep where you tell me to.  I pee and poop where you tell me to.  Well, I’ve had enough.  I’m done.  I’m putting my paw down–”

Oh shit, Karen, don’t piss him off.

Brian, he has to learn to — oh.

Okay Iggy, don’t move.

“I’ll move whenever I damn well– ooh, squishy.  HEY!

“Brian’s no fun.  Can’t we just leave him out in the yard?”

No.

“We can put food out for him, and–”

NO. 

“Hmmph.  No fun at all.”

Just be glad I’m not standing on YOUR balls, Iggy.

Brian, don’t mention–

Not that I could if I wanted to, since you’ve been snipped.

“What do you mean ‘snipped’?”

Oh, no.

You know.  Fixed.

“What?”

Oooh Iggy, look at the toy!

“Karen, what’s he talking about?  Snipping my balls?”

Nothing, Iggy.  Hey, I think one of the cats is near your bowl.  Why don’t you go tell her–

“WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BALLS?!”

Yeah, readers, I think we need to go offline.  

“YES, READERS, I THINK WE DAMN WELL DO.”

What’d I say?

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3 thoughts on “Um… Iggy?

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