His Royal Superness

The tough part about cancer is my fluctuating energy levels. Luckily, the steroids help me be the powerful buff guy I am. Last night, I felt particularly restless AND energetic. Rather than hanging out in the living room and relaxing in front of the TV, I decided that I needed to go for a walk. Oh yes, Mummy was in her pajamas (that's one of the first things she does when she gets home from work, lazy lazy human). Oh yes, Mummy did not have her dinner yet. My demands come first. Of course, duh?

I stood in the front yard refusing to go inside and instead looked longingly to the road. After using my Irish Wolfhound mind trick, Mummy grabbed my leash and a baggy (and no, I did not poop directly in the bag like Pappy's human would like him to do!) and we set off for a delightful little walk. I find it easier to gallop instead of mosey. I spend less time on my feet and go further faster. That means Mummy must gallop along with me. In this case, she skipped along with me because, hell, she's outside in her pajamas with a giant llama like dog at night. What's more normal than that?

On the corner, there is a sassy looking chow mix who left numerous good scents for me to inhale. Ahhhhh..... After sniffing every square foot of the yard, I made sure I marked my territory so all would know His Greatness the Great Big Dog Who No, Does Not Wear a Saddle or Is Ridden by Mummy and Takes Poops in Proportion to His Size (it's a long title, I know, but you must call me that because I am royal greatness or something like that). Of course, I did my business in proportion to my size and Mummy picked it up promptly with her baggy. Is that great service or what?

Because Mummy is an overprotective human, she made me return home even though I wanted to go to the park. We all know going to the park at night is wicked safe. So we returned home, I drank some water, had a treat, and fulfilled the duties of my employment contract by lounging in the living room in a deep slumber.

Ahhh, the life of Finnegan.