Bath-o-rama

So, I had my third bath in a week today. I must really smell. I wonder if they realize just how much I hate baths? They probably do. They just don't care. They're all about smelling good on their terms. Never mind the fact that I smell best after I've rolled in a rotting salmon. Everyone knows that's an incredible smell. Or after I rub my face in mystery poo. They want me to smell like green apples or jasmine and other assorted disgusting human-approved fragrances. And there is nothing I can do to stop it. I scream, I cry. I look despondent. Still, they torture me with their ridiculously perfumed shampoos and deoderant sprays.

I think about my human a lot and wonder how she's doing. No doubt she's working way too hard, she's tired and she's missing me. Any day now she'll feel the crush of emotions generated by the adrenaline and exhaustion of an election campaign, and she'll call here. Crying about how much she misses me. But I'm doing alright. And I know she's coming back for me, one day.

My cousin in California has cancer. I heard grandma on the phone with Lesli earlier. It must make Lesli really sad - she loves Cali so much. Good thing I'm not in Burlington. She would be torturing me with forced puppy hugs and plaintive "I love you's".

Nap time.