Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Foley's letter from re-hab

Hi everyone. I am writing you from my room at the Lassie Ford clinic. I have come here for a much-deserved rest. Can you believe it’s been almost a year since I joined cyber-space, writing blogs, leaving comments, making forever friends? It’s so nice to come here and relax.

Oh, and apparently I have a “drinking problem.”

I believe it was the exhaustion that caused my improper interrupting of Sandy’s speech at the DVA’s even though the counselors here seem the believe it’s my fictitious “drinking problem.” God I could use a Foley-tini right now.

But I do like it here. And you will never believe who I ran into? Princess. What…..a lush. All that power went straight to her head and then spilled out into a blender.

And she’s not even the most famous pup here (but she thinks she is.) Underdog is here, and that little dude can’t even fly. He just takes a running leap and smashes against the wall (makes me miss Pocket.) And McGruff the crime dog? Someone had his paw in the stash. I don’t believe he is even a duly deputized member of the law.

It’s not just puppies either. That chimp that belonged to Michael Jackson: Bubbles, he keeps everyone up all night swinging from the lights until an unlicensed anesthesiologist finally gets him asleep. Then he wakes up in the morning and starts throwing his feces in the air and when the feces hit the fans I call Pocket for lawyers, guns and money.

There are some dogs owned by celebrities here too, but I try to steer clear of them. Both Paris Hilton’s and Lindsay Lohan’s dogs have been here for extended stays. Whenever I go into the activities room the two of them are always on their backs with their legs spread showing their most private areas off to anyone who doesn’t have the pride to turn away. Plus the two of them keep eating all the heartworm medication.

There are even some kitties here too. The one on the internet who keeps jumping in and out of boxes? There are those goldfish treats at the bottom of the box. Left to her own devices, that cat would eat goldfish treats until she weighed 1,000 pounds.

I was raking the lawn the other day with this wonderful horse with a beautiful singing voice. It was later that night when I found out it was Amy Winehouse, animal re-hab was the only de-tox she hadn’t been thrown out of.

I only plan to be here a couple of more days. I am doing everything the councilors say so I can get home to Mommy. Sometimes rest is a good thing.

And to Pocket, I’ll be back to managing your campaign any day now, so get the Foley-tinis on ice.

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