I’m On Strike!

 One of my jobs for the last 10 years is to fetch the paper every single morning.  And sometimes when the paper is late, I have to go out two and three times before I can get it in. You remember this video don't you?  

Well maybe not, if you can't see the video, but if you can't, it's me running up the street to grab the paper and run it to the front door.  (By the way, that was four years ago.  I don't run that fast to get the paper anymore.  But I DO run that fast to go see Grant when I know he's on his porch!)  Uh, oh, I'm digressing again.  

Whenever I bring the paper in, I get a treat from Mom.  One lousy, tiny, mini, little treat meant for those tiny little sugar puff dogs that weigh 3 pounds.  On Sundays, I get two.  Well no more.  Last week I started putting my foot down.  

This is me on Wednesday:

I trotted to the paper, then I turned around and said, "Not doing it," and walked to the front door.  Mom looked puzzled, and she brought me the paper to the front door.  I couldn't help myself, I've been doing it for 10 years, you know.  I took the paper and brought it in for my mini treat.  But I gave her a dirty look and she gave me a second one.

On Thursday, I brought the paper in as usual, fully expecting we had a new agreement, but she gave me the one measly treat again.  So on Friday, this was me:

 I started for the paper, then I said, "Whoa", I think someone needs another lesson.  So I trotted to the front door.  I heard Mom say to Dad, "Do you think he wants a raise?"  Sometimes humans are not as dense as they seem.  We went into the house, I brought the paper in, and now I get two treats for regular days and four for Sundays.  (Although, I probably shouldn't get as much for Monday papers.  They're hardly worth the trouble of bringing in!

And don't suggest they read the paper on their ipads!  I need my job!

Hope you are getting paid your due for whatever you do.  Get it?  Due for do.  (No I don't mean doo doo you people with dirty minds!)

Anyway, love, G