Do you ever wish you were taller? Boy, I sure do. Mommy says there are many days when she wishes she was taller, but she comes from a long line of fellow shorties. Actually, she says Poppa's parents were of average to tall height, so she isn't sure what happened to him. That tall gene was lost somewhere along the line.
Hunter stands about a foot taller than Dixie and I do. Why is he so lucky? Maybe it's because he is a Minnesota dog. I hear they grow everything big and strong in the mid-west. Our breeder Margaret strives to make sure her dogs fall within the AKC Labrador guidelines. That is why Dixie and I aren't as tall as we might wish. So that means Hunter is the one with the problem and not us, right? Oh well. No matter which of us is perfect (and I am super close), I could only improve if I grew a few inches taller.
The first reason I would like to be taller is so I can reach all of those goodies Mommy keeps on the kitchen counter. Have you seen the good food that sits up there? And on top of the stove too? My stomach aches just thinking about it. Yummmmmm. Mommy caught me three nights ago standing on my hind legs with my front paws up on the counter straining to reach a plate of nachos. If she had just stayed in the laundry room ten seconds more those nachos would have been mine! My tongue was just a fraction away from a cheesy heaven it has only imagined. The worst part was trying to act remorseful as she fussed at me. How could I be sorry when those smells were still teasing my nose?
If I were just a tid bit taller, I could REALLY reach my head into the dog food can and help myself! We use a big aluminum trash can to store all of our food. I am already at a decent height to do this, but I have to be quick. Mommy generally gives me the command to sit and stay before she dishes up our breakfast and dinner. For some reason, Hunter and Dixie are content to wait for their bowls at the "table" where Mommy places them. Don't they get it? If they would just join me in the laundry room, we could all band together and help ourselves to even MORE food! I generally sit nicely while Mommy scoops out the food, but every once in a while I sense she is distracted. That's when I make my move. I rush head first into the can and and grab as much as my big mouth can handle. Again, Mommy fusses and again, I try to look sorry, but I don't think I'm fooling her. She gets even with me; she puts some of the food already in my bowl back into the can. I guess I have to keep up with my supermodel figure no matter what!
I guess until I can grow taller, I'll just have to pretend I am Supergirl, Canine Goddess of the World. After all, I can leap sofa arms in a single bound! No, you don't need to remind me of that unfortunate nose incident. Mommy practically looks like herself again and it doesn't hurt that bad anymore . . . that's what she tells me anyway!
Off to save the world!