Holy dog poop.
Mom hasn't let me write a blog post since March.
MARCH, I SAY!
But I got sick. So she's feeling a little sorry for me. As she should.
Woof. I am Gracie.
It all started on Labor Day weekend. I was minding my own business, chasing down unsavory characters in the neighborhood (my usual daily enterprise). I felt fine during the day, but in the middle of the night, I became afflicted with nausea. Naturally, I vomited on the blanket covering Mom and Dad. But I was quiet and stealthy in my vomiting, because I didn't want to disturb them.
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Mom hasn't let me write a blog post since March.
MARCH, I SAY!
But I got sick. So she's feeling a little sorry for me. As she should.
Woof. I am Gracie.
It all started on Labor Day weekend. I was minding my own business, chasing down unsavory characters in the neighborhood (my usual daily enterprise). I felt fine during the day, but in the middle of the night, I became afflicted with nausea. Naturally, I vomited on the blanket covering Mom and Dad. But I was quiet and stealthy in my vomiting, because I didn't want to disturb them.
