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Sluggish awakening this morning. Nestling in the comfort of leisure, I lounged in my soft, pink sheets, longer than usual.
Bliss.
Once I was done enjoying the quiet I quickly changed into my trail clothes, grabbed my keys, Poochi's leash and was in the garage looking for my shoes. You know those times when you stare at something, just knowing that something's different? But your mind cannot yet decipher the change that's staring you right in the face? Well, I started to put my right shoe on and realized the difference. It was missing part of the laces, and what do you know- a small bit of the shoe that housed the lace holes.
Dammit.
Turning and raising my voice at Poochi, I demanded to know, "what did you do?" Why do we ask these questions? This poor dog recently lost his life partner. He has never been one to do well on his own, so his nocturnal garage incarceration has not been pleasant for him. I listen as he scratches at the door, barks relentlessly, and whines pitifully to be allowed into the house.
Having reviewed all of these reasons for his bad behavior, I was a little more accepting of his crime, but not over my own anger just yet. As I held the chew-whittled shoe in my hand I asked him what we were going to do now? He cocked his head, giving me that sweet little puppy look that melts me. Then he simply looked down, about three feet in front of him, at a different pair of shoes.
Sigh.
Let's go, Poochi. ♥
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