Happy Henrietta the Hound Day!

This is the anniversary of the day that Henrietta the Hound came to live in the Snakepit, Inc.. She was a rescued dog, and I have no idea how old she is exactly, but based on her teeth at the time I had her first checked at the veterinarian's, she was somewhere between three and four years old then. So she's been ruling the roost here for nearly a decade!

Don't believe those nice people who say that a rescued dog will be the best dog in your life as a rescued dog is eternally grateful for a second chance! Sure, Henrietta saw a second chance in me: a second chance to be the Empress of the whole world, and she ran with it. After fixing a few psychological problems first, like the fear of brooms, water hoses, hockey sticks and hammers, she continued with her master plan of starting a large-scale revolutionary movement against humans, and I can't really blame her for that. Now she's plotting the next stage under the dining table. She's snoring, replete with lots of turkey and stuffing, and looking oh-so-innocent. Don't be fooled by that: she is already scheming the next stage of the revolution. I suspect that this has something do with who is allowed to sleep in my bed, and I fear that I'm not going to be one of those people or dogs.