Chigger
Okay, I got this place figured out. The chickens and ducks run at the sight of me, and Sophie the cat has permanently barricaded herself in the bedroom. The only thing that stands between me and total domination is Chigger.
Chigger is my step-sister. She's a sheep herder from some place called Australia. She's really really old. At least 500 years old, and that's not even dog years. All she does is complain about her lumbago, talk about "back in day," and bark at me like a Marine drill instructor: "Don't do that. And don't do that. And don't do that either, meathead."
She's just totally out-of-touch with my generation. She don't tug, she don't fetch, she don't sleep in a crate. Heck, she don't even have any toys. I'm new school, she's ancient school. I try to get her to tussle, but no. She thinks that because she was some sort of pioneer dog blogger that I should just shut up and listen. Ain't gonna happen. I'm the Gerret.
