Mother came up to see me tonight. This is the first week day she has been here in an eternity. She gave me my dinner, and kissed my nose and brought me cookies.
She did not brush me. She scratched my forehead and left brown dust contrails on my face. She sighed. Hey, I am the one covered in dirt because you, Mother are too "busy" to come see me. There will be no sighing about my condition, at least not from you.
I am hopeful that we will do fun things this weekend... like more cookies and a good, good grooming. Oh, and maybe I can show you how well my hair is growing out. I am going to look very punk for awhile, according to Mother... whatever that means.