My name is Prince, but you know that. Probably.
You may have heard about me from my mom. She talks a lot. Sometimes too much. She's talking a lot right now about food and The Music Man and there is nowhere for me to run (you'd run, too, if you heard her sing). She always finds me. She's got a knack for that. Her phone, on the other hand, is always lost. Infuriating.
There are strange things happening in my house. Mom cries a lot and then says some funny things to me as she picks me up in her arms like, 'who's my handsome boy?' Seriously? She doesn't know the answer to that? She's dumber than I thought. And she needs glasses.
Do you know where my best friend Tank is? He was here last week and now he's not. His crate and bed are still here and all his toys are still scattered all over the floor - the slob - but Tank is nowhere to be found. Did he decide to visit Grandma and Grandpa without me? Well, that's dumb - doesn't he know it's totally cold up there right now? I already do so much here - now I have to be a meteorologist? My workload is increasing and yet the pay sucks.
I sleep on my side of the bed because Tank gets mad at me if I even have one of my tiny paws on his side. Even when he's not around. It's like he's got this sixth sense, like that Haley Joel kid, but Tank is cuter. And much bigger. Does that make me Bruce Willis? Oh boy.
Mom takes me on my regular walks and I always look back at the house because Tank likes to watch us from the sliding door to make sure no one messes with us, but I haven't seen him looking out.
This is getting pretty old, Tank. I promise you can drink from my water bowl whenever you want. Wait, you already do. Fine. I'll let you bark at the UPS guy first. I don't trust that guy. Who wears brown everything? People who have evil on the brain.
Come out, come out wherever you are, you big lug.