Hey there. I'm Ramsey, named after chef Gordon Ramsay--one of my mom's was into the show Kitchen Nightmares when I was born. I'm a three year old black lab. I like to eat, wag my tail, run, eat, lick, wag my tail, then repeat.
I live for adventure. I love my family, especially my mom who takes me for rides in her truck. I am free as a bird in her truck. Sometimes she even lets me run in the woods. I was born to be in this family. They recently brought home this little girl--she's cute and drops so much food on the ground that I look past the tail pulling and trying to ride me like a horse. Life is good.
This is me and my little sister on 4th of July. She doesn't have fur, but we still love her the same.
I like when they take my picture. I've been told I'm handsome, whatever that means.
Last Saturday my mom took me for a ride in her truck. I was so excited. We were going down the Highway and there were so many smells and sights that I leaped towards them and broke my chain. The last thing I remember was hitting the ground and my mom running towards me on the road. I had to go to the doctor, at least that's what my little sister kept saying.
There were lots of nurses and doctors and my mom's cried, a lot. Then they gave me this stuff that made me dream of chasing deer and bunnies and I slept for a long time. When I woke up I heard this guy with a mask telling everyone it was one of the worst open would fractures he's seen. I guess the guy is good at playing board games because they called him the jigsaw puzzle master--I had eight pieces of bone in my leg and he put them back together again.
I finally got to go home yesterday and all I could think of was eating scraps off the floor, playing fetch, running next door to poop on the neighbors lettuce, and laying in the sun with the other furry child in our house, Simba. He's a cat. Something tells me I'm supposed to eat him, but he's just so good at snuggling...
My excitement was short lived when my mom put me in the laundry room and told me that's where I was going to have to stay--for six weeks. I don't know how long that is but by the look in her eyes, it's a long time. I've only been let out to go pee. Even then I have to be on a leash. Things are gonna get awkward when I have to take a poop.
I think they'll let me have visitors. Perhaps one of you could bring some bacon, and a lock pick.
Love and licks, Ramsey
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