Mommy was reading my comments, as Daddy and I snuggled on the couch, the other day when, imagine my delight, she said “Hey look, Toontzy (my current nickname) and I got some Spam!”
I thought it was rude that Daddy was being left out, but I was all up for tasting the hammy treat (so far I’ve been denied a sample of the Spam, so I was thrilled). I leaped off the couch and I bounded for the kitchen so fast my back paws skidded on the tile floor as I rounded the corner -I realized I needed to clear some room in my dish.
“Blah, blah, blah (boring Mommy talk)… gas prices… blah, blah… some crack pot.” I heard Mommy say above the sound of my kibble crunching.
“Yes Mommy, let’s crack that pot of spammy goodness open!” I called out to her, now dancing around my bowl in excitement.
Well it turns out that she wasn’t referring to the Spam enjoyed by our Hawaiian friend Cheryl at all. It has something to do about mail. You’ve got to be kidding, right? There I was, all pumped up and ready for a snack, and suddenly no treat was going to be coming at all. I mewled for a few minutes to no avail when I cried out in one last ditch effort.
“Mommy, if we don’t enjoy the tasty canned treat, the spammers win!”