Back in the Dogosphere Blogosphere
My clumsy ma ape's finger is finally back in typing shape now that you have all probably forgotten how devastatingly handsome I am. Here's a reminder:
In the meantime we are in BIG TROUBLE. This happened:
There are two (usual) suspects:
No one but the window was harmed in the making of this crime.
Here are some more crimes. One is that the puperazzi insists on taking photos of me in compromising positions. Here I am scooching:
Can't a dog scratch his butt in peace anymore? I guess photos of my rear are in high demand because someone seems obsessed with them:
Now all this broken finger stuff has convinced me that I might need to adopt a new, more efficient form of communication that is less reliant on long-windedness.
No, I am not smuggling secret messages via tennis ball. (Though I have some mad fetching moves):
The pink tennis ball is a symbol of Sophie, who has been suggesting that I twitter for some time now. So, Sophie, I caved to peer pressure. If you want to find me I am wallytcorgador. As Stephen Colbert says, I have twatted.