Therapy Dog Needs Therapist

What is it with me?  Or is it them?  Mom and Dad went to play golf yesterday and left me guarding the house.  I did a pretty good job, I thought.  Even though Mom left the food cabinet door wide open:

I didn't let anybody in.  Not the coyotes, not the javelinas, not even the squirrel that showed up the other day.  Did I tell you about that?  

We hardly have any squirrels around here.  In fact I would have said we have no squirrels.  Not like my friends in St. Louis where there are tons of squirrels and I chase 'em and they run up trees, so I don't chase 'em anymore.  It's too frustrating.  But I never saw a squirrel in Scottsdale.  (Like that alliteration?  S-quirrel in S-cottsdale?  S-cottsdale S-quirrel? Sorry.)  Not until two days ago, when one ran across our back wall, just like he belonged there.

Which he didn't, 'cuz that's BobCat's wall!  Am I digressing again?  I think so.  Anyway, I didn't let any of the critters get any food out of the wide open cabinet.

But then I was looking over Dad's papers on the coffee table and I saw a bill for his insurance.  I know how he hates to pay bills, so I took it with me to the bedroom and proceeded to shred it on the bed. 

 If I shred it, he can't pay it, right?  So I thought I was doing him a BIG FAVOR.

But NO.  They came home and I got in trouble for tearing up the Insurance bill.  Even Mom yelled at me.  It wasn't fun.  They were mad. So I got mad.  Then I got even.  I refused to sleep on the bed last night.  See who's happy now!

I don't know.  Is it me?  Do I need Dogological help?

Love and pouts,

G