Dillon, day 114 of my life in DC!

Dad’s always talking about the good old days when you could do stuff and not worry that someone was gonna catch it on video. Despite some of the obscene photos Mom & Dad post on Facebook, I like having evidence to back up my claims.

Take the other day for instance. I was upstairs with Mom in the Sweatshop, working on a new quilt or something. (I never know what she’s got us making. I’m just labor around here.) Anyway, I was hanging out, keeping my toy balls squared away and here comes Micky!
I figured it was time for a break and Mom didn’t seem to mind that I was slacking off a bit, so I started chewing on Micky. Usually, this leads to her showing me her pearly white teeth, but today was different. I chewed on her legs a bit, then chewed on her neck. After a minute or two, one of my balls wandered off and I needed to collect it, but when I stopped picking on Micky, the strangest thing happened. She followed me and started nudging me. This sorta freaked me out, but I figured if she wanted to play, I’d go along with the game. And the best part? Mom was getting video of the whole thing! (She was probably planning to use it to dock my pay for goofing off until she saw what Micky was doing.) Without that video, none of you would believe what I just told you.
I bet you think that means today was a good day. Well, you’d be mostly right. When Dad got home from work, he started his usual routine of changing and stuff. When he went into the bathroom, I naturally followed him in there… with my ball. I figured he would want to play ball since he hadn’t seen me all day. It’s not like I got up to say goodbye when he left. Are you kidding me? The sun isn’t even up when he leaves. No thank you!
Well, I guess I was wrong. Not only did he not want to play ball, but he closed the door on me. What the hell? I wasn’t having any of that! I immediately tried Micky’s trick of bumping my head against the door to pop it open. It Didn’t Work! I guess my head is too small. Next, I tried sniffing at the door and pawing at it.
Dad didn’t like that at all. He told me to knock it off and then he said “Go away you little jerk.” (He actually called me something much different, but I’m too much of a gentleman to repeat it here.) What kind of gratitude is that? Here I am trying to share my ball and he tells me to go away. How rude!

Image may contain: dog and indoor

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