I'm a little freaked right now because I came face to face with myself...in ten dog years. Mom gets horrible news everyday about my old cell mates on death row and last week, my double, my own Dorian Gray, my old mini me, was sitting at West Valley waiting for someone to bail him out or else.
Mom's friends went and got him outta there, where they were going to kill him and then we went to Brentwood, to my friend Harry Sax's house to meet him.
It was weird for me because when I looked at him, I saw what it was like to get old. His eyes and nose were runny and he smelled like a an old can of sardines with flies all over it. I was wondering if I wasn't face to face with my biological grandpa. You never know. The idiots who used to beat me up and dumped me at the pound might have bought me from the dummies who dumped grandpa.
He's ugly but Mom thinks he's cute.
Mom: "Look at him! He's adorable! Poor guy, nobody's going to adopt a seventeen year old dog. How can people be so cruel to dump him at this age?"
Mom was trying like crazy to get him accepted into a really nice place in Utah, sort of like a super fancy hotel/restaurant/hospital/ with lots of warm cozy places to sit around and get spoiled. The place is called Best Friends
I guess it worked because yesterday, Grandpa came up to the house to eat all my treats and then our friend Jen came over and drove him to the big cozy place in Utah.
I'm kind of glad he's gone to the Utah cozy place where he has lots of fans because if he was going to hang around here, it would have been like being forced to look at myself in a funhouse mirror all day long...my teeth all rotted out, my eyes all cloudy and an old poop dangling from old hairs around my butt.
Besides, you can't hang around in Hollywood when you get old. That's why Mom and Dad want to move to France before they become incontinent.
There he is, in the car on the way to Utah and in his hotel bed. Dogs are way smarter than people, we know how to be happy!