Oh, feasting! We've been missing for so long! But do not fear, I'm as handsome and as beastly as you remember (or maybe even more so):

Tons and millions of things have happened since we posted last. I'd love to take you through every little bit and the most important things - like my daily feasts and whatnot - but mom says I have to preserve her typing fingers and stick to the big stuff. Let's get this ball rolling...
My
stinkbutt brother had another one of his
surgeries and another 10
sebaceous adenomas were removed. My folks had learned their lesson from
last time, and Big
Pupi was all bandaged up and had socks on his hinders to prevent him from scratching. Three days went by and he was doing super well and healing fast. Before they had to leave for work on Monday, my folks wrapped him up with lots of cotton gauze and a sweatshirt to make sure he would be safe when they got home. Well... for reasons that I will not say, I
WEEBLED ON MY BROTHER while my folks were gone!! I weed all down his neck, and it soaked into his sweatshirt and bandages and sat on his wounds for hours! When my mom came home my bro was shaking from pain and she disinfected him in the bathtub and dried up his surgery sites. Everything was looking good that night, so she put clean bandages on and checked on him in the morning.
Well... all was recovering really well, except for one incision which had decided to ooze green stinky sticky stuff. Mom took him straight in to the Place of Tile and Steel and he was put on 2 weeks of
antigermicide green feasting pills. He's totally healed up and fine now, but I still won't tell anyone why I lifted my leg on my bro!
BP is such a tattle tale I'm surprised he hasn't ratted me out either.
Mmm... rats.
In happier, feasting-related news, Mom came home with this yesterday:
SWEEEET!! My
butthead bro has to be retested for his 2010 therapy certification and string cheese is the most delicious and effective training tool ever in the whole wide world. What does this mean for me, you ask? I get to feast on some too! I saw dad unwrap a cheesy log of deliciousness and immediately went into
CuteBeastStarvingInNeedOfCheese begging position.

It makes my eyes go all googly and
drooly beads collect at my feasting hole. My bum immediately assumes Good Boy positioning and I whine softly with the extreme need for a cheese-ing.

Big
Pupi's bum also responds to the stringy cheesiness and he gets anti-gravity
lip jowlies.

We're so totally pumped for our training schedule to kick up a notch. My tummy totally digs it.
In torture-related news, mom made my brother a new fur-covering device. Unlike his
last one, this recent edition has room for a harness underneath and a harness-leash hole, which is much more conducive for embarrassing, sweater-wearing walkies. Notice how the high collar strategically holds in his massive amounts of neck jowly flesh:

It's like an instant neck lift! Mom wanted him to look totally preppy - like he'd be found sipping sparking water in a posh ski lodge. My brother's ever-increasing level of dork-
dom never ceases to amaze me!
Sheesh! Totally glad that isn't me! I'm way too dude-like to pull that one off.
In my own most relevant and important news, my medicine is still working pretty well and now I can do my Good Boy
Weebles and
Poobles outside even when there are puddles and reflections all over the place. It's pretty cool, because I feast on little liver treats each time I empty the tanks and ignore my triggers. In fact, I think I've been such Good Boy lately that Santa came early and left a box full of presents just for me! I know this because I knocked the box off a shelf and dove head first into the fabulous stuffy explosion. Mom said I wasn't allowed to have it just yet, but I'm confident that it will all be heading my soon. I am just about the best boy out there, and since Santa doesn't keep track of my indoor
poobles (2 - I got excited), I have a perfectly clean track record. Because of this Good Boyness, I made a long list of Christmas goodies. I'm totally pumped!
Time to go nibble on dad's slippers for a while, and perhaps jump on his belly while he's
snoozeling. Santa also overlooks those Naughty Boyish things, I just know it.
Your holiday angel,
Stanislaw