A story about a dog

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I dropped Michael off to Saturday school this morning as usual. On the way back, I stopped off at the grocery store and picked up a few things. I got home, and pulled up to the front door (since they’re doing all the construction in the neighborhood, we are using the front door). I got out of the car, opened the front door, and was met with… silence.

Now, we have a dog; a mini daschund named Willy. Daschunds are very barky dogs. This particular dog will bark any time either exterior door is opened. He will bark if you open the front door from inside the house – while he’s watching you open the door. For him to not bark in this case told me one of two things – either he was sleeping (not very likely) or he was up to no good (very likely).

In the living room, I see an afghan on the couch. This is not a good sign, because the dog is not supposed to be sleeping on the afghans. The dog knows this. The dog also ignores this. The dog will pull the afghan down from the back of the couch to accomplish this. I walk over to the couch, and put my hand on the afghan. It is still warm. “Bad dog”, I say. I briefly look for the dog, and find he is not in his bed or in our bedrooms. Smartly hiding, I figure.

I go to the kitchen, and start taking care of my purchases. Still no sign or sound of the dog. This is unusual, as the dog will always arrive in the kitchen shortly after a human does, begging for some of whatever the human is getting from the kitchen.

As I turn to leave the kitchen, freshly toasted bagel in hand, I hear the dog’s collar jangling from the dining room. I turn back, and find him slowly creeping out of his crate. He realizes that I see him, and quickly drops to the floor (granted, not very far for a mini daschund to drop), rolls onto his back, and exposes his belly to me, tip of his tail quivering slightly. It’s his standard “I was a bad doggy, but you love me anyway, right?” posture.

I remind him that he once again was a bad dog, and continue to the living room, breakfast in hand. The dog is quickly behind me, and quietly sneaks into his bed at my feet. I submit this photo to you as evidence of the accuracy of this story.

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