Aroo!
It’s breakfast! The best meal of the day.
The smelltaste of saltygreasesmoke teases my nose and mouth. I stealthily move closer to the fire Packmom is standing next to. She spins around and holds her nose, swiping her face with a thingy Peeps use when they eat. Stupid thingy.
“George, what did you get into? You smell like a rotten fish!”
Yeah. That’s the best way to confuse the evil squirrels. They never know who ate them
I plop down at her feet, giving her my best basset eyes. Peeps can’t resist the wrinkles. They’re jealous they don’t have anything to trap smellscents. She holds her nose, and reaches under a food saving place and grabs a sharpsourstrong liquid I can smelltaste though the container. I’m trying to get away, but she grabs my collar. My claws scrape the floor as I slide toward her and she spills the horrible smelltasting stuff on my soft, lovely black, tan, and white coat. I just groomed myself and now I reek.
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