return of the cooper report
Hi everyone! It's me, Cooper! Hi! Hi! Cooper! Hi!
Wait, hold on for a second. Have to scratch. And lick my butt. Ah. Better.
Anyway, I, Cooper, am here to tell you that Michelle and Joe aren't going to be around here for a couple of days. They had to go to the "hospital" to "have the baby," whatever that means. So I'm writing this from the Dog Spa, where I'll be relaxing in utmost luxury until they come and get me. And this is GREAT, because I really needed that seaweed wrap and oxygen facial. Seriously. I mean, New York in the summer? It kills.
I don't know what all this fuss about "the baby" is about. All I know is that there is some new furniture in that room that used to be empty. And new toys that I am not allowed to chew, not even for ONE MINUTE because then everyone gets all mad and starts saying "No, Cooper! NO!" like I just peed on the floor or chewed up their med school diplomas or something. (For the record, I WAS JUST SNIFFING AT THEM. If I were going to rip them up, don't you think I would at least wait until they left the room? Jeez.) I don't even have any idea what this "baby" is, though I suspect Beggin' Strips may be involved. Don't ask me how I know. I have a sense about these things.
Wait, hold on a second. There's a fly in the room. Fly! Fly! I kill you, fly! I catch you in midair with my jaws of death! I am the Mister Miyagi of dogs!
So anyway, I'll be at the Dog Spa until Michelle and Joe come back to pick me up. And then we'll go home and everyone will be so happy to see me that they'll give me treats and pet me and rub my belly and pay attention to ME and only ME because I am great and I am COOPER! The center of the universe!
Hmm..."baby." Wonder what that's all about.
Currently reading: "Walter, the Farting Dog." He was so misunderstood.