Ruby Tuesday — House Destruction Edition

Can we talk? You have no idea what is going on around here. They have torn the whole house up. No one is cooking. My food dish is moved to the bathroom — do you believe that? The bathroom? They are doing dishes in the bathtub. I tell you, it’s crazy!

Look at all the junk they brought home from IKEA the other day. They didn’t even take me along — good thing too. There wouldn’t have been room in the car. Sheesh! They tore all the cupboards apart in the kitchen and put all this sticky, stinky stuff all over it. They are banging, pounding, and making bizarre noises with all sorts of equipment that hisses, squeals, pops, and grinds. It’s horrible.

Oh, and when I try to help? Are they grateful? Pleased? Tolerant? Nope. They say, “Ruby! Out! We don’t need your help.” How much is a girl supposed to tolerate?

And, the worst part? They eat out every single night. But, how many doggy bags do you think they bring home? That’s right! They forget all about Ruby while they eat their ribs and hamburgers and steak and pizza and chinese food. Poor me. You can see the insanity for yourself {click}. Don’t think about how nice their kitchen is going to be — think about how rough life is for a little dog with sensitive ears and not enough doggy bags!

I’m willing to take matters into my own hands, I tell you. My Gramma was here helping today — they didn’t make her go out and not help! — and when she went home, I tried to go with her. She’s the one who made me my own bowl and saves special bits of cheese for me. That’s a house a girl could love! Not this insane asylum. Sigh.

It’s enough to make me just give up. Where are the smelling salts?

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