Doug and I had a date night tonight.
A dinner out.
A new place around the corner. (Lucille's. Very nice. Most Excellent plate of oysters on the half shell, calamari, steak and lobster rolls. A lot of extreme facelifts all around us, and I don't mean renovations to the restaurant. But I digress.)
We were gone...maybe two hours, if that. We were with Buddy all day, and in fact, when I went to the gym this afternoon, Doug waited until I got back before he did his errands so Buddy wouldn't get lonely.
I took him for a long walk, fed him, and played fetch the monkey with him for twenty minutes. Even though that monkey was soaking wet with dog saliva and smelled like corpse, I picked it up and flung it over and over again because it made my furry little friend happy.
To Summarize: The Budster was well fed, amply walked and played with, so he wouldn't have the energy to get into mischief.
And yet he still felt compelled to do this tonight. How did he get in there, I hear you asking? Don't you make sure all doors are closed securely, knowing he has a history of murdering paper when he's alone? Well, someone (hey, no names, no finger-pointing, but there are only two people living here and it wasn't me) left a door ajar.
You tell me. Guilty face? Or unrepentant miscreant?
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3 comments:
Awwww, poor Budster! He only unwraps is. Rather like a cat. If mine would only do that and nothing else. I can't keep kleenex on my nightstand because she will knock everything off, including my antique lamp which so far, has managed to weather the storm, in order to get to the tissue which she then proceeds to eat until she's had her fill. Then she shreds the rest of them. Then the yard is filled with tissue turds...ugh.
Hey, I had that happen to me once in a Wendy's restaurant, when the end of the roll accidentally got tucked into my shorts...
Love you, Budster!
~kc
kc hahahahaha!!!!
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