It’s that time of year again. Family Vacation. Minus “the dog.” I don’t know if my sister has talked about me much on here, but my name is Gwen. I live in Connecticut with our parents. Don’t let the tail and the droopy ears fool you – I am more of a human than the old man with the mustache is.
Don’t get me wrong – I love my Dad. He is my best friend. And probably my biggest (maybe my only) fan in life. He is the only one who misses me when they are all gone. On Family Vacation.
There they all are. Sitting on the beach. Looking like they are having so much fun. Did you know you can bring dogs to the beach in Cape Cod? I know this because I overheard them talking about it. I also saw this on my sister’s Facebook:
She doesn’t know I go on Facebook all the time. I saw this picture last year when they came back from Family Vacation and pretended they wished they could’ve brought me. Liars. Instead, every year they leave me behind. With that diva biotch…ahem, I mean Dolce.
And the wannabe cat, Sadie (that shit needs to stay in the wild.)
The thing is, when they are gone, I can really stick it to them. I do all the things that I know I am not supposed to do. I drink toilet water, pee on the dining room floor, poop on my sister’s bed, eat the cats’ wet food, and rent pay-per-view movies. Oh wait, I do all that when they are home.
I guess nothing really changes when they leave, except for my growing hatred towards their annual Family Vacation. It’ll be somethin’, the day when they rent a house on The Cape that allows dogs. But until then, I guess it’ll just have to be a surprise. Me coming to The Cape. They don’t know Dolce learned how to drive. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when I show up with a Mojito in hand and in my brand new Victoria Secret bandeau top and matching cheeky bottoms. It’ll be a real hoot.
I’ll keep ya posted…