I’m Max A. Finch. I was banned from this site soon after I posted my first piece, Max A. Finch, Guest Blogger, on November 28, 2015. There was something about a destroyed Booda animal—I’m an effing dog, for crying out loud; we tear up stuff—and some shoes coming in contact with whatever it is that comes out of my backside. (Details are here.) Anyway, after having lived with my person for 169 totally glorious, blissful days and nights—my person is one special guy, let me tell you—he decided to restore my writing privileges and let me provide an update.

My person moved me and him on February 15, 2016. We live a block away from the best dog park ever, according to my Aunt Leigh. I get to go there almost every day. Lots of other four-leggers, grass to scratch, college students to see, and trees and posts to pee on. And most of all, chances to run, run like the wind. (My person tells me he can’t send the video to his community. Between us, he is an idiot when it comes to technology, but check the MarkRubinWrites page on Facebook. The video is there.)

Here, also, is my very tall person:

Most of my days are spent working. I lie on a chair or on the floor, switching back and forth. Soon after we arrive at the office I get to go for a walk. That’s cool. And I usually get another couple of shorter walks in during the day, before my campus—what’s a campus, by the way?—walk after work.

Sometimes I get to go to the building next to my office, where my friend Odin works with Uncle Robert. Odin has lots of toys, and he’s most generous about letting me just take them and tear them up. (My person keeps telling me Uncle Robert’s office is not Toys-R-Us, but I have no idea what that means.)

I also go to another office from time to time. Long halls, and lots of really nice people. Mostly, though, my person does meetings there.

So, enough about work, right? Except, I can’t quite figure out why person-people complain about work so much. I think it’s a pretty easy gig. If only I could get my person to better understand work, the way I do, all would be well.

When I’m not working or on campus, I am at home. Here I am in my favorite location. I like it fine but, candidly, I sort of feel like I’m working, even when I’m home.

So that’s my Max A. Finch update, mostly. I’d rather leave out the deal with the shoes my person was wearing when he didn’t look down, and stepped in some more of the stuff I … well, anyway, he tells people he’s going to get them re-soled, once he gets enough of my stuff off the soles, so he can take them to the shoemaker without embarrassing me. He’s also mentioned the fact they are were really good Allen-Edmonds shoes. (Truth be told, I don’t poop in the house, hardly ever.)

It’s a pretty good life, all in all!

Oh, one other thing! My person has these contraptions out of which come moving pictures and sound. He went without for a long time, but now he has two of them hooked up. This morning this really screechy, awful man with what looked like a dead animal on his head was on, not answering any questions directly, always saying I. Best. Big. Yuge. and lots of other dumb stuff. I cried. My person said I’d better get used to it!