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I’ve been watching some trashy TV with Mom this summer, but that turns out to be lucky since I’ve finally realized my place in the family. I am my Dad’s entourage.

If you’re reading this you probably already know it, but my Dad is pretty much the best person I know. Sure, Mom takes me for runs and picks out my food and takes me to the vet, but my Dad–he lets me lick his face, and he gives me a lot more human food than Mom does. In return, I am his loyal entourage.

I wait for him outside his shower and am quick to lie at his feet and help him dry off by licking them. I also cuddle him awake in the mornings. I take him to the meadow to play.

The mark of a successful entourage is having its own entourage, and you can easily see that in this scenario, Mom is mine. I would call her my personal trainer/nutritionist. She also does odd jobs like escorting me to OUP so that I can carry out my own entourage role for Dad.

It’s what they call on TV the fabulous life, just so you know.

Like any star, I must care for my physique. That’s why, after two-and-a-half weeks of recuperation, I’m back on the straight-and-narrow with my personal trainer (her name is Mom). Yesterday, we ran the canal, and today we ran to Wolfson and then walked back. I get water given to me from the trainer’s cupped hands. It’s both glamourous and grueling.

I even changed my diet. After snubbing the Science stuff I was on, the ‘rents finally got the picture and got me some great new stuff, called James Wellbeloved. Delish! And I got some sweet little Cesar “A Little More Refined” wet food that gets mixed in every once in a while (Mom checked–Cesar is specially designed for people who obsess about their little dogs and it wasn’t a part of that recall). Sometimes I get a nice cooked egg to keep the coat shiny. So yeah, you could say I’m working hard and looking good.

Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some new toys that I’ve just got to destroy. A dog’s work is never over! Woof!

Now that I’ve had some time to put some distance between myself and the horrors of my recent surgery, I’m ready to share some of my most intimate photos with you, my loyal fanbase. I hope this will only serve better to bond us together, and to show that I’m not afraid to bare my heart to my dearest readers.

Dad left early the morning of my surgery–which leads me to suspect that it was all Mom’s doing. She took me to the vet at 9 AM. Usually I love going there–just yesterday I made Mom stop and go in on our walk so I could snag an extra treat–but this time, Mom left me! I was kept in a little room and not given any food all day, although Mom left my red ball from Grandma with me. The next thing I knew, I’d been shaved on one of my legs, hooked up to some device, and I just passed out! It was crazy!

When I woke up, I heard the nurse calling my Mom and telling her that I was okay. I most certainly was not! But I was still feeling pretty woozy, and I had to hang out at the vet for the rest of the day. When Mom finally came to pick me up at five, I was happy to see her but I barely had the strength to wag hello. We walked home really slowly and Mom put me on the armchair.

The worst part, and by far the most embarrassing, was the cone. Every time I tried to inspect what the vet had done to me, Mom coned me! Lame!

Anyway, I was feeling much better by 4 AM and woke Mom up to tell her so. After that, it wasn’t really so bad–I milked the situation like any rock star or favoured child would and got to lounge most of the weekend with lots of treats, ice cubes, and even a squeaky duck toy.

Talk about a dog’s life! Woof!