top of page

Potato Beast

Since Mom can’t come with me on my monster runs anymore, I feel like I’m getting a bit… fluffy. Does that happen to you guys? My pre-run breakfast of canned bird is the same portion size whether we’re running 10 miles, or 3 miles. And it doesn’t matter whether we’ve run 10 miles or 3 miles, I’m still hungry for Second Breakfast afterward. And I never turn down my bonus bite of NotMom’s eggs, which are my entire reason for living between 6:30 and 6:35am. And it’s not like I’m going to disappoint the nice man who comes to our house every day to take us outside to eat cheese. (I wonder if Mom even knows that The Cheese Man comes, since she’s never here when he is)… The end result is that I look less like a lean dog ready for Muscle Beach, and instead am stockier and wad-like – like a potato with legs. Which is why Mom has taken to calling me “Potato Beast.” What’s a lovable and attractive internet celebrity like me to do?!

But Mom’s got it even worse than me. Not only is she getting plumper, but when she gets ants in her pants from not running her behavior gets REALLY weird. Instead of getting the zoomies or tearing up a toy, Mom picks fights. I already mentioned the Great Comcast War of May 2016. Mom spent over 6 hours on the phone with them, until she’d gotten the entire month for free for her troubles. And now we have AT&T. Now that victory is hers, she is devoting her extra time to fighting a traffic ticket that she got (probably when she had ants in her pants) for stopping at the wrong place in a confusing intersection. So for our workout today, Mom took me and my sister for a 2-mile walk out to The Intersection so that we could stand there for 30 minutes and time the light cycle. On the way there, some lady yelled at her for throwing my poop into her trash can. I thought that I was going to have to help Mom murder her. Luckily, the lady had a cat, so when I started threatening cat-murder myself Mom had to apologize and get out of there. I’m crossing my paws that Mom finds a way to calm down the bees in her bonnet soon, or else she’s going to become one of those crack pots blogging about conspiracies in a dark basement somewhere, and I’m going to become one of those fat dogs they write memes about. -Oscar the Potato Beast (Mom was too obsessed to take a picture on our reconnaissance mission today, so today’s pictures are a collection of dogs dressed like potatoes that I found on the internet)



bottom of page