BULLY SHTICK

I love bullys. Everyone knows I love bullys. In fact, some even believe I live for bullys. One who shares that belief is my sissy Kayla.

After a long day of dog runs, keeping Kona off my back (Siren is still the best I've ever had), and holding down the couch, Auntie D. gave everyone a bul-. It wasn't even a whole bul-LY. It was just BUL. It was a STUB, it was short and it was certainly nothing to brag about. (Another "what was she thinking" comes to mind.) Everyone blinked and *poof* mine was gone.

Sissy K. looks out for me in times of need and, boy-oh-boy, was I needin' more! So, we hatched a plan. I was the decoy and got on the couch to share some VTUs as a distraction. Meanwhile, K went into the kitchen and found the box of REAL Hannah sized chews. Thatagirl! She opened the box, pulled two out and brought the contraband into . . . the living room. *sigh* BUSTED.

Hmmm, I wonder if that is why Kayla got locked in the basement for an hour . . . .