No Popeye's for Bear

Let me tell you about my boundaries.  I have four.

• My crate (tiny)
• My play pen (small, but better.  food, water, toys, a potty pad.  oh, and Austin added a basketball hoop!)
• The family room (pretty big, but mom boarded off the entire banister and walkway to the kitchen. yes, i can fit through the spindles.  and yes, she did that because i'm a little slow on the uptake to the whole indoor potty training thing.  and yes, that's a story for another day)
• The whole house (i get free time after i pee and poop where i'm supposed to.  woo-hoo!  there's a lot of stuff i need to get into)

Anyway, the bad thing about my boundaries is that I'm cut off from the kitchen.  Dad brought home Popeye's chicken last night.  Do you know how good that stuff smells???  So I whined and barked and scratched at the barricade.  I just knew they would eventually give in.  Didn't work.

So I tried another tactic.  The sad-eyed, make-them-feel-guilty look.  That didn't work either!

Mom says there are some things that just aren't good for me to eat.  I don't quite get it... I had chicken the other day and I loved it!  But Popeye's is somehow "different?"  Whatever, I had to settle for bananas last night.  I guess Mom is just taking care of me.  Doesn't mean I like it.

Mom also says she wished she had someone who would prevent her from eating the things she shouldn't eat.  I told her I didn't think she would make a good puppy.  Her cute years were over a long time ago.  Hee-hee!