The day we busted out...

Hello. We've met before.
Name's George.
Around here, I'm known as Mom's "go to" when she doesn't feel like writing a post.
I'm starting to get used to it even though it usually turns my day into a rigorous photo shoot workout to determine my best and most appealing side.
Left. It's my left side.
Look at that profile and dare to disagree.

But I'm not here to discuss my stunning good looks. Mom says that's presumptuous or some other big word.
Whatevs. We all know it's true.

I'm actually being used and abused today as a public service announcement for pet owners.
According to Mom, a locked gate is a beautiful thing when you have three dogs in your backyard.
And a locked gate with an actual working lock is even better.
Mom says stuff like that and I don't think anyone knows what she's talking about or even listens.
But it probably has something to do with the time that the other prisoners and I put together a little hostile takeover while the lawn guys were here.
Those lawn guys.
They're just like everyone else.
Pet the dog. Talk to the dog. Throw the stick. Slip out the gate while the stupid dog isn't looking.
Except for when the dog isn't as stupid as he pretends to be.
Well, maybe Rodney is.
I don't think we have his test results back yet, but look in those eyes and tell me that looks normal to you.

However, despite Rodney's issues, we managed to make our escape while the lawn guys were patting themselves on the back for having pulled one over on us.
And I'm here to tell you that nothing tastes as good as freedom.
And fewer sounds are sweeter than the frantic yelling of the lawn guys who just discovered that the dogs are the smart ones.

PS...mom wants me to tell you that we are all safely locked away in our prison again and no one is worse for the wear.

Except for perhaps the lawn guys.
Nothing like being fooled by the prisoners, eh boys?
Catch the stick indeed.
Until we meet again, my friends.
Until we meet again.