Look at me People! Look! At! Me!
I'm going fucking BALD! BALD! What in the Sam Hill is the world coming to?
I'll tell you what has caused this abomination. No, I won't tell you, but I'll spell it. F-L-E-A-S (I don't want to say it out loud because we think all of the little bastards are gone and we don't wanna call them back.)
You see my sweet, polka-dotted face? You know how that got all chewed up? I like to sleep with my head jammed in the pit that Stinky dog's back legs make and that also happens to be primo real estate for those-we-shall-not-name. And it seems that I am super allergic to their horrible little bites. It is so hard being such a sensitive dog.
It certainly doesn't help matters that Mama has me in this godforsaken "Florida" place where fleas fucking thrive year round in the great outdoors. I'll be happy to move to Oklahoma where it gets COLD in the WINTER like it's supposed to. And fleas DIE then.
Good grief. I am ever so grateful that the gnawing bastards are gone and that I'm not all scratchy anymore but will my hair ever grow back?
I don't like to go out in public looking like this. My party style is being severely cramped.
The only thing that cheers me is that Mama feels like total shit (as she well should) that this has happened to me and she gives me tasty cheese bits whenever I look at her with my thin haired self.
Fucking F-L-E-A-S. I hope they all die a horrible fiery death.
I'm going to go squeeze out a grudge shit somewhere in the house for the humans to find later.
This post has been presented by one pissed off Tiny Dog.