Hello again. It’s Rio, back on blog duty since it’s STILL RAINING and honestly, a girl can only gnaw on her tail and nap on the couch so long. Mommy even broke down yesterday and gave me a kong full of frozen peanut butter to lap, but that little trick backfired on her some since Queenie got into it when she came home yesterday afternoon.
I’d like to say it’s not easy being a writer’s dog, but that’s not true. I know if my mommy worked at an office, I’d be left alone in the house all day. Here all I’m asked to do is sit on Mommy’s feet during the winter. Mommy can take off in the middle of the day to take me for a walk, and there are people on the internet who think I’m cute.
But the gig has its downsides, too. For instance, I have to admit I get a little jealous of all the fictional animals Mommy creates. First, it was Voldemort the snake, who I don’t mind telling you I do NOT like one bit. Apparently, he’s even older than I am, because he was created before I was born. So, for that matter, was Bonegrinder.
Bonegrinder is, quite possibly, more popular on the internet than I am. We can’t have that, folks. See how cute I am?
So, whatever. Mommy made Voldemort the snake and Bonegrinder long before she met me (and boy was I cute then):
but what’s her excuse now? Why can’t I be in every book? Why can’t I be a unicorn hunting dog? I like unicorn hunters:
Lately, she’s gone totally overboard in creating animals, ever since I started hanging around her. It’s like she’s obsessed. It wasn’t enough that she had Voldie and Bonegrinder and Bucephalus. She added a whole host of new unicorns in Ascendant. (I mean, come on, guys. Angel? That was a ploy for unicorn sympathy, plain and simple.) And of course, there was Flayer. And Enyo.
And then, to add insult to injury, she created some DOGS. Gotta make fictional ones, Mommy? Think they’ll keep your feet warm in the winter? Gog and Magog, which I’m sorry, are very clearly ripoffs of Temp Dog #2. This year, she made another dog character, Goneril. You haven’t met Goneril yet. She’s in next year’s Under My Hat anthology. And, for the record, she is NOT AS CUTE AS ME.
And now she’s at it again. You should see her. I have to lie here on the floor by her desk, pretending to nap as adorably as possible, letting my little feet twitch as if I’m dreaming of chasing things (in a land where it’s not flooding, darn it ALL) and trying to distract her with my undeniably toxic levels of cute, and she’s sitting there, typing away and giggling at the antics of her latest animal creation.
Guys, I fear it might be cuter than me.
WE CAN NOT HAVE THAT.