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Fredrik Eklund's Dog Mini Mouse: Being the Perfect Dog Takes a Lot of Work


Fredrik's dog, Mousey makes history with the first blog ever written by a dog...

By Fredrik Eklund
Bad News in Fredrik's Happy Place

Hi, my name is Mini Mouse. If you give me a second to explain, I'm going to prove to you it's actually me writing this. Yes, I'm Fredrik's youngest miniature dachshund and this text is the very first time in the history of dog-kind that you humans get to hear what us fur babies of your world really have to say.   

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This week, my dad was working on a big mansion deal. He kept stressing, huffing and puffing about unfinished construction and dust. I never ask him about his work, I figure it's better to pretend I don't understand any of it so when he comes home and takes his suit and tie off, I just lay there looking cute and soft. It's just easier that way. It's better if they don't know that I know everything. You see, I've seen his show, once I saw a kangaroo on it, then a pig, then a green tea flew through the air, and when my daddies got married I started to get really into it. I saw old Mousey on it, first with ears and then no ears, and I know what big shoes I have to fill being the youngest member of this household. They think I don't want watch MDLNY, they think I'm just a dog starring into the TV screen at night, but I see all of it. I see how hard he works, how difficult those rich people can be, especially "Mr. Cape" this week wanting a love dungeon, and I can see how my dad puts his heart and soul into each deal. No one else sees him when he is alone, but when I lay in his lap and he caresses me he is all calm, and he whispers to me that I mean the most to him. But I know it's not necessarily true, as I can see his job is always present in him.

Now, it's time for me to tell you a little secret. I know how to sell too. Yes, hunni! We are all in sales, all the time. My dad always thinks it's HIS idea to buy me cashmere sweaters and new round beds every week - but it's actually all mine. I'm selling him and big daddy, Derek. I lick them, I love them, I tickle them, and I pretend to fall asleep on my back with my legs up in the air perfectly placed in front of the fire place. Once I licked daddy's tears after he cried about feeling like a failure after not being able to enlarge the family. And once, in Fire Island, I ran fast towards the sunset and jumped into the orange sun as he was taking photos - because I know the Instagram likes are important to him too. Basically, being the perfect dog takes a lot of work but it's totally worth it, because in return I'm spoiled rotten. They just think it's all their ideas, but they are really all mine and that’s just how I like it.

This week, he took me and my brother Fritzy to a Japanese Dog clothing store. Jordan was there too, he's so quirky. I've told my dad to give Jordan a raise, but I think instead dad spent all the money on new clothes for me. I see how Jordan tries hard for my dad to love him too, I mean we all do...

I was laughing inside because the producers and the cameras seemed so excited when I started running around the store. They are so hilarious those producers with their big clunky cameras, they thought I looked funny in the dragon dress with bells on, but they have no problem filming my dad with a bear mask on, negotiating. I wonder people are saying my dad is silly sometimes. Anyway, I've told the producers that Bravo needs a new show called Million Dollar Pets, basically the life of the rich and famous dogs and cats and the occasional pig of the world. But I'm still waiting for my contract, so not sure why Andy Cohen isn't calling. Maybe his dog Wacha is jealous.
I was so sad seeing my dad upset over losing the deal with Jared and Mr. Cape. What most people might not know about my dad is that he cares so much always about what other brokers thinks of him. He always wants them to like him, to come back for more deals, to trust him. He depends on them, and he always tells me the co-broker community is his number one client. Fine, dad. I get it. But in real estate you can't make everyone happy ALL the time.

Anyway, everything ended well. I got a new wardrobe again. Fritzy got some new bones (he's not as sophisticated as I am...and he doesn't even know what a twink is, can you imagine!), and dad got another $200M-sellout.

Now I got to go, dad is yelling upstairs about Connecticut again. He is high-kicking and dancing in happiness. Apparently we have a new house there, with our own lake and waterfall and lots of ticks. And I will keep on pretending to be just a cute little dog with one blue eye and soft oversized ears. Ha, if they only knew. I'm the mastermind of this family. Of everything really. I run the world. See you next week.



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