Stripes and Plaids: My Name Is Toby

My name is Toby, and I'm a petty, vindictive little shoe eater.
My name is Toby, and if I'm not the one with allergies, I don't see why I'm the one who has to take the bath. :-(
My name is Toby, and tonight I did not pass go or collect $200; I somehow passed through "too much mud", and collected a bath. How much mud is too much mud?
...and I blame it on the rain. And the wind. And maybe something I ate.
...and I like to wait until That Chick stops moving, and then sit right behind her, so when she turns around, she's forced to step on my feet, or kick me in the head. She gives me food when that happens.
...and my feet stink.
...and when That Chick tries to kiss me, I run away.
...and yesterday, I had a blueberry facial at the South Bark Dog Wash. I think I had a bath too, but I kinda zoned out.
...and today, I killed a wasp, with an unnecessarily noisy and hysterical assist from That Chick who feeds me.
...and my tongue doesn't fit all the way inside my mouth.
...and I just noticed the shiny red mylar balloon that has been hanging near the ceiling since Monday night. It is suspicious, dangerous, and that red string dangling from it - which I also just noticed - is probably a fuse.
...and I defy the rain!
...and today I learned that while I will eat grass, paper, rabbit poop, and even dirt, I will NOT eat asparagus.
...and I'm having an identity crisis. Am I a Jack Russell, a Parson Russell, or a Fox Terrier? [I know I'm incredibly handsome, but that's not really the point.]

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