(no subject)
So I slept on the couch last night--my admittedly odd habitation of choice--and I wake to my parents bustling about in the kitchen. I squirm underneath the blanket, pressing myself into the leather, trying to press the sounds away and head back into dreamland.
I crack an eye open anyway.
And who is there to greet me?
Good ol' Padfoot has his snoot in my face, giving me the FEED ME look.
"No," I mumble. "You know th' rule: no food till Dad's gone. Mn food f'you."
And as I close my eye and push my face into the couch, Padfoot whines as if I'm teasing him with a steak or something and just won't give it to him. Swear to God, that dog sounded like I'd just called him the most offensive dog term in the book (whatever that is/would be).
I told my mom what happened, and she said, "Ha! He knows better than to do that with me."
So good to know my dog is trying to milk my presence and love for all its worth. Love you, too, poopy Paddy.
...
...Kind of reminds me of the dynamic between my parents and...Morgan. Yeah, Morgan. I am the star child, after all.
... (o_O)
I crack an eye open anyway.
And who is there to greet me?
Good ol' Padfoot has his snoot in my face, giving me the FEED ME look.
"No," I mumble. "You know th' rule: no food till Dad's gone. Mn food f'you."
And as I close my eye and push my face into the couch, Padfoot whines as if I'm teasing him with a steak or something and just won't give it to him. Swear to God, that dog sounded like I'd just called him the most offensive dog term in the book (whatever that is/would be).
I told my mom what happened, and she said, "Ha! He knows better than to do that with me."
So good to know my dog is trying to milk my presence and love for all its worth. Love you, too, poopy Paddy.
...
...Kind of reminds me of the dynamic between my parents and...Morgan. Yeah, Morgan. I am the star child, after all.
... (o_O)