A bad weekend

It's me, Maggie, and I'm having a terrible weekend.
Here's the summary:
- It was hot.
- A big thing in the side yard scared me and I ran away.
- I got a bath.
- The backdoor neighbors shot off loud fireworks.
- I had to hide from the lawnmower.

If you want details: Yesterday it was hot outside, and mom and dad weren't outside very much. That means we weren't either. Except that apparently they thought we needed a bath. I don't know why. It was awful. Now I smell terrible -- I'd worked all week to roll in this new smell in the yard. Mom sprays her roses with stuff to keep deer away, and I don't understand it because it smells really, really good like deer pee.

And that begs the question: Why would that keep deer away? Seems to me that would just be saying "Hey deer: We have a really good party over here! You should bring some beer and come on over!"

Anyway, I had that stuff all over me and I smelled really nice for a few days. Mom wouldn't let me in the house much at night, and she wouldn't let me scratch my back on the living room rug. So then Dad gave us a bath. And today, dad mowed the yard and I couldn't go out in the yard because the big bag thing makes too much noise and I just don't know where it's going to go. I've seen big sticks go up in that thing and never come out.

Bandit likes baths. I hate him.