You humans make it so easy....

Yes, you certainly do. Here's why:

Today I uncovered  an interesting story whilst searching for an at-home recipe for chloroform. Surprising, I know. But, I could not for the life of me recall the ratio of bleach to acetone!

According to theweek.com, there is a new human affliction known as "Forgotten Baby Syndrome." and it's apparently on the rise. Forgotten babies? Well, now you've certainly piqued my interest.

This "syndrome" causes adult humans to forget their spawn in the backseats of sweltering cars, because they're too busy juggling the Wal-Mart circular page, a cell phone, and a Wendy's frosty. They run into the supermart of their choice, to purchase XYZ consumer crap that will sit at the bottom of their closets or basements for years to come.

After countless hours of munching on ranch Doritos and drinking an extra large cherry coke slushy, they suddenly realize that their shopping trip has been largely unencumbered by their yapping, whiny, smelly and unruly offspring. This is because THEY FORGOT TO TAKE THEM OUT OF THEIR CAR SEAT. This discovery causes them to leave their shopping carts which by now are full of fish sticks, fruit roll-ups, lawn furniture and those little ice cream cones with the chunk of chocolate at the bottom, to run out to their minivan to discover their precious little Willy or Janice has succumbed to the oppressively hot conditions. Shame on you! 

Trust me, as someone who has been locked in a hot car only to suffer for hours, I can say it's definitely something I rate up there with a rectal exam at the vet's office. Not cool, humans! Not cool at all!

Stupid humans! You make it so easy for us canines to take over. You're so busy leading your pathetic lives that you've begun to "accidentally" kill your own children. The future of the human race. FORGOTTEN. This admittedly makes me a bit sad and angry.. Any human I don't get to kill myself always bums me out. Though, I certainly prefer to wait until humans are grown adults, full of pointless ideas, blank stares and a general lack of all accountability....Makes for a much more enjoyable experience.

Killing kids and babies has never been of interest to me, as they are truly innocent. They can't help the unfortunate hand dealt to them: being born human. Plus, they are too easily manipulated into doing my bidding. Why not keep them around for a while?

Bedtime....

Even in sleep, I plot her demise. And yours.

If I could choose any human, alive or dead, to eat dinner with...

I'd pick a dead one. Preferably one I bested after they'd given me a good belly rub. I'd flip over and latch onto their carotid artery before they knew what hit them. They would bleed out in seconds.

On second thought, that might be kind of messy. Potassium chloride in their orange juice always does the trick. Stops the 'ole ticker in under three minutes.

Humans are dropping like flies from heart attacks, the news reports say. Foul play is never suspected when one's diet consisted of the four food groups: pork rinds, beer, McDonalds and peanuts. If people only realized that most heart attack victims ALSO owned dogs.

But, don't worry, Girl. It's not your time. YET.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y....NIGHT. : (

Well, Saturday night has rolled around. Normally I expect Girl to walk around in a whiskey-and-diet-coke stupor, while painting her vapid face with dark pencils and elevating her ridiculous giraffe-esque legs even more with 4 inch heels to then stomp out the door claiming "there better be hot dudes at this bar or I'm going home".

But alas, Mother Nature has literally rained on my plans for this evening. So instead, Girl is sitting on her couch in elastic-waisted pants and scarfing a myriad of ice cream sandwiches, while watching something called "Lifetime".

I had planned on pulling supplies from the basement in order to start building my arsenal of pipe bombs. I even found Girl's extra supply of dental floss, which I am certain would work well as makeshift garrote wire.

What's worse is that I have to watch Girl eat all those ice cream sandwiches. That bitch. I had planned on devouring those as well.

DAMN YOU MOTHER NATURE!!!!! If only you'd stop your incessant downpour, so that Girl could go get good and loaded with her vacuous friends. She'd be so black-out drunk by the time she got home, that she wouldn't even notice I was out of my cage, assembling plastic explosives. I might even get to try one of my judo choke holds on her before she officially passed out for the night.

Alas, as my plans have been thwarted, I might as well just curl up and watch somebody called "Tori Spelling" fall for a pathological liar, who will abduct her into the woods.

Greetings from my new lair...

Well, I have arrived at my new home and I've been busy surveying the premises. Admittedly it's been hard, as I've discovered a major setback in my plan to flood the world with my spawn. While at the shelter prison, they knocked me out and harvested my reproductive organs. Dirty sons of bitches. Injected me with sodium pentothal and pulled me out of my bed before I could retrieve the shank I had fashioned out of a squeaky toy left behind by my last cellmate, Mr. Tickles. But, alas, their fat faces faded out in a haze before I could retaliate.

I am still under the weather from the premature and savage abduction of my womb. Which, off topic, I think it's interesting that humans have no problem de-sexing the ranks of our army, when they are completely incapable of raising their own filthy offspring. Oh how the world will be different when it's run by my canine brothers.....

Despite this permanent setback, I am still confident with my charming looks and floppy mismatched ears this new mark will learn to trust me quickly.

PS. "Girl" , formerly known as "master" has decided to replace my old name Thelma, which was given to me by my last host human. BTW: We won't call her "master" anymore, we know who's going to be in control of the situation. I digress, "Girl" has decided to call me Penelope, or Penny for short. Hence the title of the blog, Penny's Mightier, a nod to one of the few humans I could respect for his literary prose, Edward Bulwer-Lytton. Of course, I can only admit my respect for him, because he's dead.

Farewell for now. Need to take inventory of Girl's cleaning supplies.

Yours truly,

Penny

My new "master"...

Funny the irony in that last sentence. Let's see how much I can take of little doggy sweaters and kibble before she meets her end. And then it's back into the cold, dark shelter cage for me. But someone always falls for my trap....

The ride home.

You'll have to give me a moment. I'm feeling very sleepy from the drugs the humans at the shelter gave me. But, not so incapacitated that I couldn't strike like a cobra snake if given reason.

Please don't think I am snuggling up to this human because I want to. It's all part of the game. Just have to stay awake long enough to get coordinates on my new location.

I'm smiling here....

It's a rare occasion. My last day at the shelter is tomorrow and time is running out to to find my next victim.