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Frank the Cat Vs. The Elf on the Shelf: Day Three, The Dog Plans

Still intent on going after the creepy elf, Frank enlists the dog's help, with less than stellar results.

Angie Bailey  |  Dec 21st 2014


Editor’s Note: If you missed the day one and two of Frank’s epic mission to destroy the elf, you can catch up here.

Day three, 10:00 a.m.

Semi-recovered from yesterday’s elf-related drama, I began the day with a fresh idea to rid my life of that heinous elf on the shelf. The dog and I don’t spend much time together because he’s, well, pretty gross. This morning my head was ready to explode from hearing him slurp his bottom, but then I had an idea. Maybe if I was nice to the dog, he could be of service to me. So I put up with the horrendous butt-slurping while I formulated my plan. Gross.

The dog was happy to help because he’s happy to do everything. Kind of annoying, really. I thought if he stood close to the shelf, I could use him as a springboard to reach that blasted elf. Ingenious. Sometimes I really amaze myself with my own brilliance. This was not such a day. The excitable beast saw me coming and started wagging his tail. It was one of those wags that involves the entire back half of a dog’s body. Ridiculous waste of energy, all that wagging. Also, it’s very difficult to land on a canine springboard when half his body is a moving target. I landed with a tumble behind a chair, which was embarrassing enough, but then I saw that foul-faced elf staring at me. That stupid elf had seen all of it, and I swear I saw him snickering. He’s completely reprehensible and must be banished. I wasn’t giving up.

Day three, 1:25 p.m.

Dog Plan A was a total failure, but now I’m ready to go with Dog Plan B. I will somehow convince the dog to scoot a stool over to the shelf. I’m not strong enough, but he’s giant and has big muscles. I once saw him drag Grandma Dottie down the driveway when she was walking him on a leash. The dog is powerful, yet quite dimwitted: the perfect accomplice for someone like me, who clearly excels in the intelligence department.

I think the dog gets it. I see him nudging the stool. Good dog! I’m sorry I ever said you were gross — you are redeeming yourself today, old boy! Oh no. What’s he rolling around in? I don’t see anything! Now I’ve lost him to some invisible, odorous spot on the carpet. He’s entranced! Come on, dog! Get up! Move the stool! We had an agreement! The elf is enjoying my failed attempted at capturing him and doing I don’t know what. I still haven’t decided. The dog is still going at it. He’s so gross. I shall not give up.

[Check back tomorrow for part FOUR in this Catster original holiday series.]

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