It was a great weekend!

I get to travel. Oh joy. I have a crate, and I really hate to be in it. Usually it means a trip to the dreaded vet, or a long car ride. I hate riding in the car! Sometimes it means a trip in the big rolly thing my person's parents call a motorhome. That's pretty cool. It's my 3rd home, you see. The first is where my person lives, the second is where her parents live, and then the motorhome. The best part about any of these places means I know where my food is located and where to find the litter box, at any hour. I can't imagine anything worse than not knowing where those two very important objects are!

So, during the thing my person calls a weekend we went in the motorhome to the great big pond of water place. It's nice there as long as my person's sister doesn't bring her stupid dogs. Well, only one is stupid. Dixie hasn't yet figured out that when I scratch to draw blood, she should go away. Mojo learned his lesson well.

So, the weekend. I spent a great deal of time lounging in the lawn chair I claimed. I rolled in the dirt, which did not make my person's mother too happy. She has a thing about dirty paws on the furniture. And my Tylor caught me a hopping bug to play with. When it stooped, I got bored. Then he found me a crawly bug. That one eventually flew away. I guess he didn't want to play anymore.