It was my turn to dig again! I don’t know why Mom Human yelled at me. She doesn’t know about the deal with BinnyTheDamnCat. I call him Cat, but that’s what my Humans call him sometimes, really loud. I think they forget I can hear better than they can. Especially when there are good movies on. I don’t mind.
I keep giving Mom Human the sad eyes, but she pointed at my bed and said, “Lay down!” She doesn’t sound all mad. She keeps smiling, and laughing a little, too. She’s picking up the grey dirt with little paper towels. I don’t know why. She should eat it. It tastes good. Those paper towel things taste good, too.
It’s good Dad Human isn’t here. He sounds like he ate too much grass when he sees me eat the grey dirt clumps.
“Silly dog! Don’t eat litter!” I don’t know what those words mean, but she said “dog” and that’s me. CocoaTheHotDog. I hop down from my High Bed, and go over to nudge her leg. Sometimes she gives me treats for that. She laughs and says words, and then I get food. I have to try it at least ten times a day for maximum effect.
I don’t think she understands the Blue Box. I don’t understand the Blue Box. But I like it. It dispenses treats when Mom Human won’t.
Cat and I have taken turns digging in the Blue Box since the day he showed up. Well, that was a long time ago. I think there was a brown plate before. It was big, square. Cat used to dig treats up for me all the time.
Dad Human said Blue Box! And Mom Human said Today! And that’s when the Blue Box came. I missed the grey dirt clumps. Then Cat showed me how to get my head in.
Here’s how it works:
Cat goes into the Blue Box. I think there’s another dimension in there. I can’t fit in the box. Cat does. Through the see through door thing. My head fits. That’s what matters.
Cat is in the Blue Box forever, and then I hear it. The digging. Grey dirt is different than the dirt in the flowers outside. It’s different than the dirt in the Dog Park, or NoWe’reNotGoingThereToday, as Mom Human calls it when I drag her by on Walks.
There’s no grass in the Blue Box. I don’t think Cat has ever seen grass. It’s green, not grey. Cat should see it. Mom Human puts him on a leash, but he won’t go outside anymore. I go outside, but I don’t like to walk in the grass. Only hard dirt. That’s grey, too, but you can’t eat it. I tried.
After Cat digs – he digs forever and ever sometimes! – he pops out of the Blue Box. Through the see through door. I looked in the door. I couldn’t see him. I think there’s another dimension in there. But I can hear digging. Mom Human talks a lot, I wish she’d talk about that.
I like to say hello when he comes out of the Blue Box. His tail is long, and he lifts it high. For some reason, he smells like the inside of the Blue Box. Some times more than others. When he was tiny – a long time ago – Cat would let me sniff and lick his belly. He always smelled like the Blue Box. Not as much now. He’s big.
When Mom Human takes her work box through the big see through door and sits outside, I wait for it to start making clicking noises. She never looks away from her screen thing when that starts.
I nudge my head in the door of the big Blue Box and nose around. Sometimes the treats Cat dug for me are right on top. They sure are tasty!
I wish all of my food tasted like the grey dirt clumps Cat finds for me! I wish everyone’s food tasted like them! The Great Big World would be a better place.
Cat and I made the deal when he was a baby, and Uncle Mike brought him to my den. If not for that deal, I would have simply ate Cat.
Be thankful, Mom Human.
I love treats. I love Cat. I love Mom Human. I love Dad Human. But I really, really love the grey treats. More please!