I have an ouchie. I learned about ouchies from my friend Jonah who comes to visit me. That's what his mommy says when he bumps his head. "Jonah got an ouchie?" That's how I know what makes me walk uneven, an ouchie in my leg. Don't worry, I still like to go for walks though; I'm just slow now.
I like Jonah's visits. He loves me and asks his mommy to see the doggie. He waves his hand back and forth in the air to show her how my tail goes. And when she says, "Jonah, want to pet the doggie?" he runs straight at me and slips his whole hand like a cone over my nose. I don't know how to tell him muzzle and pet are two different things, but it's okay for now. He's still little, and he'll learn. One thing I wish he'd learn soon is not to start this chain reaction: Jonah steps in my water bowl, my mom laughs, his mom gasps, and Jonah tries to pick up the bowl and throw it before his mom can pull him away from it. Too much drama. Jonah likes my squeaky toys, and someday soon I hope he and I can play together.
