On the Eighteenth Day of BaXmas

On the Eighteenth Day of BaXmas, BaX reveals to you...

And I have a kong and a kong and a flat bunny and a handmade toy with my name on it (that My Human won't let me play with) and a muzzle for the tough days.

I think most everyone probably needs a muzzle for the tough days.  It's a doggy straightjacket.

My Human is having me blog again today because she said her soul left her body.  Something about human puppies dying last week.

They died near my Noah's Ark vacay getaway. 

I hope the pretty lady with the silver hair who lives there and who accidentally drops smoked salmon on the floor isn't on the floor of her closet.  If she is, I would like to go and kiss her.

My human is playing with a tree (What, is she me?) and yelping happy songs. 

She doesn't fool me.  Her soul's not there. 

I don't know what death is.

I do know I don't like puppies.

I growl at them and run away.

I also know I don't like guns.

They make big, loud banging sounds.

I especially don't like the ones that make LOTS of QUICK bangs.

When the banging happens, something stops.  And when the something stops, it rarely starts again.

I prefer somethings that move and breath and play and grow. Even puppies.

Unless you can promise me that humans will wear muzzles when they need them, then I don't think they should have so many guns. Especially the ones that make lots of quick bangs.

But what do I know?  I toilet dive.

Hopefully this tree thing will work with My Human and she will be back for The Nineteenth Day of Christ*&^%$.