Seriously! Quick, people! Someone call the ASPCA! Or PETA! Or maybe Extreme Makeovers: Home Edition, at the very least. Because who in the world of caviar and happy romps on the banks of the Champs Elysee with French dilettante poodles named Georgette decided this
Jamie claims this contraption, which looks like something directly modeled from the Spanish Inquisition torture chambers, will help me "housetrain." I beg to differ. I see nothing resembling a train here; not wheels, not a caboose, not a food car.. Nay, nothing so refined as even steam engine in sight (*because all puppy's train references come from the 19th century, of course. I'm mean, it's logical, yes?). And I certainly refuse to see what part of this chamber of doom is likened to a "house."
Nay, I fear it is as I expected. It's a treacherous plot to keep me confined. Me. Little. sweet. cute. innocent. Ziggy.
Think of the children, ma'm! THINK OF THEM NOW, I SAY.
Well, Jamie can keep her raised flooring and removable waste tray and
The war is not over, dear Jamie. Oh no! It has just begun, mon amie!
*Jamie's input, there.