Dillon, day 96 of my life in DC!

Have I mentioned that Dad likes to pick on me? It sure seems like he does. Last night, while I was outside relieving myself, he started laughing. I wasn’t sure what he was laughing about so I finished up and ran up on the deck to find out. I almost wish I hadn’t. He was laughing at me! What a jerk! He said I have a touch of OCD!
What the heck does that mean? Obsessive, Compulsive Dog? How rude! I have no idea why he thinks that. Nothing I do is obsessive… sorta. I prefer to think of the things I do as well practiced routine. If you’re going to do something, it is important to do them properly. Once you learn the correct method, you should repeat it and make it a routine.
The routine Dad was picking on is my efforts to get into position to pee on something. If I don’t hit my spot on the first pass, I’ll loop around and try again. It’s not my fault that it can take as many as six times to get lined up just right. I want to hit a specific spot and I have won’t settle for half-assing it.
I guess that’s just the way things go around here; the new guy always gets picked on around here. Later in the evening, Mom called me a busy-body again. I like to participate, so I pay attention to everything that’s going on. Bite Me.

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