“No but seriously Val. I thought you said it was a ‘throw pillow’.”
“Yeah but that doesn’t mean I want you to actually throw it on the floor every night.”
“Then why did you tell me to throw it?”
“I didn’t…I told you that it WAS a throw pillow.”
Really the conversation includes less talking, in fact none, on the dog’s part and more swearing and nonsensical yelling on my part.
Every morning I wake to the same thing – Winston snuggled comfortably on one of the couches and all the pillows thrown on the floor.
There are several problems with this.
First: He is not allowed on the couches and he knows that. As soon as I come out and find him he jumps off as quickly as his sleepy legs will allow and looks up at me with those big eyes absolutely soaking with guilt. Then he drags his feet over to his bed, which is a huge green puffy pillow.
Oh you poor dog. I feel so bad that you have a big comfy bed and food and a treats and toys. You poor thing. No. You SHOULD go ahead and tear up my pillows. You’re totally right to do that.
Second: Does he not like my choice in pillows?! I love those pillows. I made them. I love them. And he doesn’t even want to snuggle with them while he participates in illegal house activity. What the heck?!
Third: All my pillows are falling apart and have dog hair and drool all over them. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to invite someone to sit down next to one of those?
Here you are friend…I promise the snot on the dried snot on the pillow is complete safe.
I’m going to become one of those dog owners that does a house breakdown every night.
First I’m going to turn up all the cushions on the couches. Then I’m going to put all the irish spring out of reach as well as trash cans. Next I’ll scour the house for used tissues just in case he might get a craving for those. And finally I’ll make sure that every water source is blocked, closed or placed far out of his reach in order to prevent the almost nightly 3 am emergency pee wake up calls.
Next thing you know Andrew and I will have whole separate rooms of furniture in the basement to bring up for company.
Ugh! It just makes a girl want to scream!…or throw pillows across the room….you don’t suppose this is learned behavior?
In other parts of my world: Still pregnant. I want the next blog to be about my sweet baby girl instead of my sweaty dog.