Oh my goodness. My life IS strange sometimes!

Today, during my noonday walk, a straaaaaange man approached us. He smelled strongly of that stinky, fermented canned stuff they call 'beer', and he was weaving as he walked twords us.

I hid behind Dad.

He talked all sweet to me- but between asking about my name, and age, and breed, if I liked bones, and such... he kept suddenly yelling, "For me to POOP ON!" and then laughing hysterically.

I was completely wierded out.

Uhm. Why yes, we WERE on the potty-walk, but... Uhm. I only poo where I'm TOLD to... I'm a very GOOD girl! And this stranger was... very *STRANGE*.

I ran home when we moved on. I was all 'Run Away!! Run Away!!' and I kept looking back at him and then at Dad. I wondered if the stranger drank the beer, or poured it into his ears and soaked it into his BRAIN or something- he was not exactly all there, I think!

Dad then took me into the FRONT doors of the apartment complex, instead of the side door. He opened a little metal door with numbers on it (like are on our front door) and *GASP!!* Some papers popped out!!

AAAAUGH!!! PAPERS!!!

I wanted to flee back out the doors. Wrong house! Wrong house!

Dad laughed at me, and I felt very silly- I sat down and looked longingly at the doors while he looked through the papers, which he called 'the mail'... they smelled like strangers. I wanted to go HOME again!

Lucky for me, the hallway by the 'mailbox' things leads home too! WHEW... I was so relieved.

It was a scary moment. I mean... you never know- maybe the strangers who owned that 'mail' before Dad took it, would be mad at me for letting him take it home with us? You never know... and that stranger man might come talk about Pooping on things again. That was even wierder...

Oh boy... I just don't know what to make of this crazy world... I just don't!

PS: Dad says you would have to go HERE

http://www.triumphtheinsultcomicdog.com/

to understand that poop on thing... but I went there, and I STILL didn't understand. hrm.

Big Bertha