In defense of Ozzie

Goofball, here. This post might be a little shorter than I might like, because I'm taking my time with the typing. Usually, when I type, I get a little carried away and I somehow shut off the computer. Harriet doesn't like it when her computer shuts down without warning, so there has been a moratorium on my typing. I'm trying to do a good job here so that my blogging privileges aren't taken away, thereby suppressing the voice of the bear.

Anywho, I thought I might say a word or two on his behalf, seein' as Ozzie bought me. Well, about the best thing I can say about him is that he has good taste in bears and that he bathes regularly. I suppose he also lets me sleep with his wife and a lotta cats won't let a bear do that. All-in-all, I would say that Ozzie is okay. Of course, my only point of comparison is hanging out atop a Duracel display at Toys 'R Us. A lot of ladies walked by and admired the Goofball, but they were just teasing and I could never seal the deal. Who could resist a face like mine? Well, nobody worth living with.