The Bear

My parents have a stuffed bear named Cinnamon. I guess that they have had it forever, it's special and it's clearly not a Snarf toy. I've removed the stuffing from my pig, my bed and two of Momma's taz dolls--big whoop I'm not untrustworthly. Ok, so maybe I've bit the bear and drug it around the house a few times, but I was just trying to be friendly and show him the new house. The bear stays either on the bed or on the shelf, but on our recent trip he got to go along. It was my trip to Grandma's, not a trip for the bear. I guess I may have tipped him off that I was planning to give Cinnamon a tour of Grandma's new house by his leg, so he resorted to new lows, or highs in this case. What do they want from me--I'm just a Snarf. Jeez, the bear has more clothes than me. Wait, strike that, I don't want any clothes. Mom, stop looking at all of those costume sites! A pug should not be dressed as a cow. Anyway here is the picture of the bear and hanging from the bedpost just out of my pug reach. And of course the dorky picture of him in his vest. Momma calls it his Partridge Family outfit, whatever that means. All I know is that Mom went shopping with Aunt Beth and came back with this outfit. I think the bear needs a "pugs rule" shirt. Gotta Go! Off to plot more ways to play with the Cinnamon.

Snarf you later.