The beginning... or maybe it's the middle, let's just go with calling this the beginning.
It all started when I was sent up the river for dealing Nip, that's CatNip to those of you not in the biz. I ended up at the Humane Society, Silicon Valley. How I got there cannot be discussed, afterall, I am in the PPP (Puppy Protection Program) and I'm not allowed to talk about some details. Actually, I'm not SUPPOSED to be telling you any of this, but I feel my story must be told.
I'm not sure how long I was at the HSSV, the days and nights ran together. All I know is during my time there, they took away my family jewels, cut them off! I'm not sure how it even happened. I went to sleep one night, some nameless person came in my cell and got me, I was then knocked out and woke up the next morning back in my cell and all that was left was stitches, in place of... of... well you know! I'm still traumatized. STILL!
My stint in the big house didn’t end after my jewels were taken away.
I was put into a big glass cell and given a new name. A large yellow tag stuck to my cell proclaimed that I was now “Miles.” Miles? Really? That’s the best they could come up with? Last I checked, I was a dog not a blues singer.
From that day on humans came to look at me suffer in my cell under my assumed name. Occasionally, I would be released into this large yard where multiple humans would try to smother me and coo at me.
One day a young girl and her family came to visit and took me to this little room. I decided to show them what I was made of and peed on every item in the room. It was a wondrous feat. No one can pee as much as I can. A bladder may be the only internal organ I possess.
The little girl loved me and wanted to take me home, but her stepmom had other ideas. My ability to pee on everything did not impress her, plus she didn’t think I looked at all like a “Miles”. She was not impressed with my new moniker and promptly changed it to “Milo.”
That was her first mistake…
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