H. Hound is no runway model dog. This is exploitation, Cydorgs! I'm totally outraged! I'm typing only because I fear that next I may be sent to a place where they chain you to a table and attack you with a captive Bumble bee trained to shave you bald. That's right, I overheard "This dog really needs a groomer!" earlier as I trotted into the kitchen. The groomer is a horrible place that my neighbors have barked about. Legend has it that after your hair is buzzed off they put you in a tornado box. If you survive, a seasonal bow is attached to your head and you're forced to walk to the car that way. Humiliating!
Sure, I may look fine. The web cam shows me typing on my owner's laptop with a bowl of yummy breakfast behind me. That's all staged, Cydorgs! The cat has been appointed my new physical trainer. He's calling himself Norman "Michaels" Whisker now, and EATING MY DRY FOOD!
Cyber friends, this is bull ...
"Hell Hound! Are you posting about the contest like I asked you?"
That's my owner. "Yes, mother!"
VOTE for H. Hound at Newsday's Cutest Canine Contest up to three times a day between July 24th at 5 p.m., Eastern Time until 11:59 a.m. Eastern Time, August 10th.
If you'd like to adopt me, email my mother. Don't tell her I asked. PETA, contact me immediately on my cell to set up the raid of the Christie House.