Someone Better Call Dat Show Animal Hoarders.

Mom n Dad has come home with some stupid stuff over the years -- loser pictures to cover every inch of wall space (why?  but seriously why?), flowers for the garden that is beggin' for a trampling, obviously Chester.  Not even gonna bother mentioning the cats because JEEEZ. 

But last week Dad came home with the stupidist thing yet.  A dog.  Yeah, that's right.  This bitch doesn't make typos.  Word has it this crazy mofo was running in 'n outta traffic on Glendale Blvd.  And for some reason Dad felt compelled to pick him up.  And bring him home.

Turns out this ugly little fool (AND NO, HE DO NOT LOOK LIKE ME!) has a microchip but the phone number for "Joanne" was disconnected.  And according to their info Joanne had an address like way far away (further than Griffith, and maybe further than Runyon) so prolly this Joanne didn't even have him at the time of his dancin' in the street.

Anyways, the next day we all went on the most ANNOYING walk ever and put up these signs everywhere...

But no one is callin.  Prolly cuz he sucks. 

Anyway, Mom n Dad claims they are looking for a good home but 'pparently the open road ain't good enough cuz a week later his ass is still in MY BED and MY CRATE and gettin' kisses from MY MOM n using MY COLLAR N LEASH (ok it's Chesturd's collar n leash but everything that's Chestard's is actually mine so...)

I thought for sure he'd be outta here after this weekend, when he gave everyone FLEAS n Mom was outta town and Dad had to deal with it by himself.  "But I don't know where to put the frontline because you always do it!!!  They need different kinds!?!  Baths!?!  I was supposed to fix my caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!"

Anyways, somebody better call to collect this dufus quick cuz I seen the way Mom is lookin' at the dog (like she wants to eat him faster than her enormous dinner) and Dad already named him.  Glen.  His name is Glen and he needs a home that isn't mine. 

Peace.