Dillon, day 57 of my life in DC!

Maybe I overreacted and threw a bit of a hissy fit today…
There’s a standing rule around here that I get to follow Mom around all day. I don’t care what else happens as long as I get to be a part of what’s going on. When Mom forgot this, I got a little upset.
This morning, Mom packed up all her crap and took off for Ikea. I was caught off guard by this. So, when she put me in my crate, I was too stunned to really make a fuss. Okay, my bad for not paying attention to what’s going on. I was even quiet and calm when she came home and let me out. (That’s part of the rules. I’m supposed to act like a gentleman before I get to come out and greet everyone.)
When she started loading up this afternoon though, I was wise to her shenanigans. The minute she grabbed me up to stuff me back in my crate, I pitched a fit! And when I say pitched a fit, I mean it. Someone walking by on the street out front would swear Mom was in here skinning me alive. I screeched and howled until Mom was long gone. (Mom says this is why we waited to adopt me until we lived in a house with no neighbors real close. Whatever.)
When Dad got home, he knew something was up. I greeted him like a gentlemen, but he got the clue that I had thrown a bit of a tantrum because the tray for my crate was sitting in the middle of the floor. Oops…
For the uninitiated, I have a cozy little crate set up in the living room. It’s an open air crate with a fluffy pillow sitting on a plastic tray that protects my feet from the wire. This tray slides out, but not when you’re standing on it. For me to get it out of the crate takes a bit of creativity and a bad attitude. I have both when it comes to being left behind.
I’m sure Micky thought I was being a brat while they were gone, especially since I was disturbing her nap. What can I say? We all have our little quirks. Take tonight for instance. My little blue ball rolled under the couch and I couldn’t reach it. I tried and tried, but my little arms aren’t long enough. When Dad saw me, he pointed out that my other ball, the blue and orange one, was sitting right next to the couch. Mom tried to tell him, it’s just not the same. I wanted the one under the couch. So, Dad reached under there and fished it out. Of course, as soon as he did, I dropped it and picked up the blue and orange one. So, I’m a little psycho… Get over it.

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