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Dog with a Blog: Fabio Can Type


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dog with a blog

So guys, I’ve been asked to write a blog. At first I took great pride in this. They asked ME to write a blog? My very own column called Dog with a Blog!? Finally someone is realizing my greatness. My immense talent is finally receiving recognition. I will finally be famous.


But then I realized….


They didn’t choose me to start this blog column because my life was particularly interesting. Nope. They chose me because I’m the only dog that can actually type. Well guys, what can I say. I ain’t no dumbass. Just because dogs aren’t allowed to go to school doesn’t mean I didn’t find a way in. Those days my owners thought I ran away, I was actually at school. I’d come home around 3:30 in the afternoon after a long day of studying, only to be scolded by my owners.


“FABIO! Bad Boy!”


Most owners would be so happy and relieved that their pet had returned. Mine were furious. But I wasn’t on the block trying to hook up with the next Chihuahua. I was sitting in the corners of classrooms, peeking at the teacher, just trying to get a lesson in.

dog with a blog

I knew there was no way I could take the tests. After all, I’m just a dog. I would have to test my knowledge myself and punish myself if I failed. Two months ago I gave myself my math test by stealing a copy off of the teacher’s desk when she wasn’t looking. Math has always been difficult for me, evidenced by the fact that I FAILED.


I dug up the teacher’s answer sheets and marked the test myself. 23/100. I punished myself by staying in my bed all weekend. My owner tried to get me to go play in the park. I wouldn’t move. She tried to give me a treat. I refused. She even made me my own gourmet meal of chicken and rice, just to cheer me up. I turned it down.


After that terrible weekend, I hit the books even harder. I retook the test and rewarded myself by snatching some cheese off the counter.


Well, I’m proud to say that I have now graduated. Unlike most graduates, I didn’t get a party. I didn’t even get a small gift. Well, actually, my owner coincidently bought me a new harness the same day I self-graduated.


You think that’s nice.


Well, it’s not.


The harness was pink.


I am a boy.


I don’t know why my owner always insists on buying me pink things with frills and bells. By now, you think she would realize that I am a boy. Still, I embrace it. I make pink look like a manly color.


Anyways, guys, you’re stuck with me. I’m here to stay and update you on my daily life, no matter how exciting or boring it may be. Good luck getting rid of me.


Barkya later humans,

dog with a blog

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