Log 2
Thought I might have been in dog heaven already; then comes along Commander A.S.S. blaring its digital gibberish all over the place and waking me right back into this hell. I believe the tinhead might need a few bolts tightened up in its nogging.

Why do I get this feeling like nobody back home gives one piece of [data removed] about this mission?
Make no mistake, this was meant to be just another daily, humdrum, run-of-the-mill, get-someone-else-down-to-the-Moon-base-might-as-well-make-it-a-dog kind of a mission; true that! Regardless, it still cost them money (enough to buy me an entire forest of trees to pee on, in fact.) Won’t those humans do something?
Remotely [data removed]-start the heads of the robots, maybe?
Or, get an animal shrink on the intercom?
That’s not to imply I might be scared in the slightest (being a descendant of the wolves and all...) Still, this situation I find myself in does warrant some being scared. That said, even this fancy multi-million dollar space diaper couldn't hold all the bricks I’m about to drop.

Log updated —
Still ejecting bricks.
Log updated —
Commander has finally clammed up. Must have tired out its robotic yap. Now it just keeps floating around, whacking itself against things. Don’t think it could damage its head any worse though.
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I’d try to pee on the robots’ faces - you know, to try and reset them; but I’m tied dead down to a spot in my seat. Actually, you’d be bananaz to call this thing a seat. It’s a special contraption designed by the Earth’s higher apes to accomodate all of a dog's needs in space. Looks like a laundry machine, if you ask me.
Between the launch and the Lunar landing, I was meant to be allowed a free-roam around the cockpit. However, seeing as there’s no one aboard with enough brains to ‘unstrap’ me…
Let’s just say I *can’t wait* to be stuck in this thing for the next three days it takes to the Moon!
Log updated —
For mental relief of all personnel, a relaxing music is recommended for listening; is what they just said over the intercom.

Log updated —
They do know dogs don’t give a [data removed] about music, right? Neither do a couple of brain-hemorrhaged robots?