This dog is such an ass sometimes. This isn't any secret to anyone who has met him or has met me or reads this blog. It's just that I never run out of new examples of why he is so terrible.
The other night I am looking for him so we can go to bed. I keep walking up and down the hallway, calling his name. He isn't coming and I don't see him on his usual perches:
- the guest bed
- Roxy's bed
- the dog bed downstairs
Then I happen to look down as I am walking back through the hallway for the 12th time and see him like this:
Yup. He's laying in the laundry basket. On my clothes. (They were dirty.) This same dog is TERRIFIED of the laundry basket when it's empty. But then it's not soft. It's understandable.
Empty laundry basket = cage of terrifying mutilation death.
Full laundry basket = soft fluffy bed humans placed for me in the hallway.
I wasn't as annoyed with him sleeping on my clothes as I was at his refusal to respond to my calls to him. It was as if he knew he wasn't supposed to be there so he tried to camouflage: "Please don't find me. Don't find me!"
And that face he is making right there? It's the oh-man-I-am-so-sorry-but-not-really-at-all face. He doesn't give one crap about whether we are mad at him. He would prefer I just walk away and let him be. Which I didn't. I beat him.
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