About This Author
My eyes are large black raisins sometimes, and sometimes they malted milk balls. They are malted milk balls when I want something. And they are malted milk balls after I get it. They are malted milk balls sometimes because I am in love with Dave. He’s my guy. He sleeps on a big bed and let’s me have my own pillow. And if I work it right I get his pillow and mine as well by morning. I like him too because he buys two lunches. One for me and one for himself. And if I work it right I eat some of his as well.
Its good to be able to switch your eyes from raisins to milk balls on fast demand if you need something from Dave. Although sometimes he’s not in the mood for milk balls and he might throw a shoe at me. That doesn’t happen too often, but I’m also pretty quick and have some good moves like Lebron, and can get out of his way. He’s quick, but not like me. He’s fast like a little car, but I’m fast like a Camaro. He speaks dog too pretty good. But when you get down to it sometimes, I’m a little confused as to what he means. When he says “come” I get the feeling he means “run”? Then he throws his arms in the air, or kneels and tries to talk real soft to me. He’s funny this guy, Dave.