I am uncomfortable. It… feels so strange to walk in this thing. Am I being shame-paraded?
The children I see are being punished in the same way I am. They must have done whatever I did.
But if I’m being punished, why is everyone so happy to see me? Are they pleased that I got in trouble?
It must have been when I saw the squirrel through the window and barked and barked and they told me to be quiet and to get off the couch. That must be it.
Did the children bark at squirrels too? I wouldn’t put it past them...
But the children are getting children-treats and I’m not getting me-treats.
Do they know I’ve been peeing in the corner of the garage? I’ll bet they knew the whole time.
… Did they cover me up in this thing because I’m ugly?
Why am I being punished?
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