Now Moses and I have decided to start answering questions about Rottweilers, Espresso, and other things that are commonly asked of bloggers (neither of us knows what this means so we are working on it). Moses will answer to the best of his little puppy ability, and I will answer as a Rottweiler geek. All questions are considered (within reasonable boundaries) and if I can't answer them I will come up with a clever answer that can be debated by scientists for years on what it's purpose is. All answers are my own personal opinions, or Moses' and are from our experiences They are in no way affiliated with the coffee shop, the humane society of the united states, or any other organization or peoples who know more then we do. Just type a question into the comment boxes, and I will try to respond within the two week time period that Moses is superimposing on me.
First Question Ever! - Why is Moses always asleep in pictures?
Kbgroot Answer: He's vicious aggressive Rottweiler puppy with killer instincts, and razor sharp teeth made for destroying plush toys, beanie babies, and blankets. You try taking a picture of him awake. I have realized Moses is like an Xbox, he's either on playing for hours and hours, or he is asleep.
Moses Answer: *SNORE*
For those of you who wanted more Moses stories, we will be back next week!
Friday, March 22, 2013
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Girl, Rottweiler, and Meeting
We weren't planning on getting a puppy. Well, most of our lives had not gone as planned at this point, my parents were going through rough times, my long term boyfriend had just broken up with me, and my previous dog (a wheaten terrier named Sammi) had just passed away. So puppy? Whose grand idea was that?
My mother had been in love with rottweilers before I even existed Starting with a Rottweiler named Molly-dog. Molly-dog was four or so when I was born. She would sit by my cradle, wait until I made a sound then race to the other room to inform my parents that I, the baby, was needing help and they darn well better provide. That's what I assume she said. So as a child I was raised by a Rottweiler. She would let me ride her, brush her with toothpaste (which was tasty fun for the both of us), and protect me from the alligators (thanks Peter Pan for that irrational fear, i lived in Montana). So throughout my short life of twenty two years, I have always been under the impression that Rottweilers were my people. But that didn't explain why we were going to see Rottweiler puppies.
My aunties, Michelle and Tracie, have these wonderful ideas. Such was the case of the Rottweiler puppy. My mother (in passing), had mentioned how she would love to have a Rottie again and my aunt Michelle quickly jumped on the idea to add another dog to the family. Michelle started researching breeders within reasonable driving distance and poof! There was one not far away, Siesta Creek Rottweilers, who had just had two litters of puppies. My mother said she would wait until summer, before she would seriously think about one. My aunt Michelle replied with, "But, if you don't get him this winter he wont be able to hike with us during the summer."
My aunts.
My mother had been in love with rottweilers before I even existed Starting with a Rottweiler named Molly-dog. Molly-dog was four or so when I was born. She would sit by my cradle, wait until I made a sound then race to the other room to inform my parents that I, the baby, was needing help and they darn well better provide. That's what I assume she said. So as a child I was raised by a Rottweiler. She would let me ride her, brush her with toothpaste (which was tasty fun for the both of us), and protect me from the alligators (thanks Peter Pan for that irrational fear, i lived in Montana). So throughout my short life of twenty two years, I have always been under the impression that Rottweilers were my people. But that didn't explain why we were going to see Rottweiler puppies.
I'm taking you back to a time several months ago before Moses, before the coffee shop, back to an almost legendary time of November. When my mother's birthday was coming up.
Thus it was sealed, we were going to look at puppies, but not to buy one, just to look.
We all hopped into my Auntie's bright red hummer, and were off to see the breeder we had picked out. Driving took us the grand total of fifty minutes, due to the small fact we got lost. When we got there we were greeted by a pretty rottweiler named Lola, Lola was the mother of the first litter of puppies. We followed the breeder out to the barn to look at all of the babies. There were seven boys and two girls in the first litter, and and not a bad looking puppy in the group. You hear about breeders who don't put much work into their dogs but this breeder had obviously put a ton of effort into breeding the perfect Rottweiler. Each puppy raced out to meet us from the barn. Their first time outside in the snow had us four women scrambling to hug every puppy. I fell in love with a little female puppy, obviously the smallest in the litter, she just wanted to cuddle but my mother (being frugal) said we were here to look at another puppy. The little puppy we had decided (if we were going to get a puppy, but we weren't) would be named Moses. Now, never name the animal when your not planning on buying said animal, it sets you up for investment.
Moses, a little chub chub, of seven weeks, had a little orange piece of tie line around his neck. He was unmistakably in love with my mother from first sight, following her around like a duckling. We called him over with "Moses" (first non-purchasing mistake) and it was the sweetest loppy puppy gait anyone had ever seen. Picking him up we cuddled him, and made eye contact (mistake two). Moses had a recessive trait where he had four little white hairs on his chest, making him "puppy quality" not "breeding quality". Mother, my aunties, and I all fell in love with the strapping young man before us. But remember we're not buying a puppy.
All the way home my mother insisted we weren't getting a puppy. This lasted seven days, and a good many text messages.
Mother texted all her friends, family, and contacts. Hoping that someone would tell her it was a terrible idea. Sadly (fortunately for my brother and I ), the majority vote swung the other direction. My mother, who is generally a conformist, was adequately swayed.
We bought the puppy.
All the way home my mother insisted we weren't getting a puppy. This lasted seven days, and a good many text messages.
Mother texted all her friends, family, and contacts. Hoping that someone would tell her it was a terrible idea. Sadly (fortunately for my brother and I ), the majority vote swung the other direction. My mother, who is generally a conformist, was adequately swayed.
We bought the puppy.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Girl, Rottweiler, and Birthdays
I got up this morning in a strange fashion, the bringer of mornings kicking me in the side during what most people call a puppy dream. I turned and blinked at him, how did he get on my bed? Why was he in my bed? When did he get in my bed? Although, he looked pretty comfortable, sprawled out in prime kicking position. I glare at the dog and realize I am a queen of unsuccessful glares at this point, as I role out of bed. How many days has it been since I washed my hair? Did I do it yesterday or the day before? Do I smell alright? I feel confused. Moses let's loose winds of death, I decide shortly that I better take a shower anyway.
Walking to the shower in a haze, I remember briefly its my birthday. I take my shower (singing "its my party and I'll cry if I want to) and change into black pants, and a batman t-shirt (maybe this year Bruce Wayne will finally come for me). I get back to my room to see Moses alert, staring at my phone. I send a questioning glance his way and I begin to put on shoes ignoring the frozen pup. Then he begins to growl. I turn towards him, "what's wrong?"
He gives me a look that says, you don't know?
I shake my head, thinking of course this is crazy puppy behavior. Then the growling starts again and my phone starts to vibrate.
I bust out laughing. How scary the phone must be, a demonic creature, with a great bluish green tint and razor sharp sound effects.
Moses is growling, teeth showing, hair bristled, he hasn't bothered to get up but his whole body is alert. It's a serious yet funny sight.
"Mo, it's just my phone." I giggle at him then pick it up, to see what's going on. Facebook has exploded with birthday wishes from friends, family, and acquaintances that I can't quiet place. Apparently, my phone had been going off every minute or so with the well wishing of people both in the United States and outside of it. No wonder my Rottweiler was screaming at it.
"Geeze." I had been thinking my theme song for this years birthday would be "it's my party and I'll cry if I want to", I wasn't expecting to actually cry this morning. That just sent Moses out the window. He jumped up, started wagging his tail, and licked my hand.
It's ok, it's ok. The demon phone isn't that scary.
I laughed, because honestly, dogs. He stopped the moment I laughed, realizing I was ok, he curled back up.
"Do you want to go to work?" I asked grinning, Moses' ears perked up and he wagged his tail.
"Work?" I asked again, smile getting bigger.
He stood up, wagging his tail.
"Go?" I could help but giggle.
He stretched, jumped down, and began to whine.
My phone went off, the whine changed to a growl.
I laughed, "let's go, before you decide to attack my phone."
Puppy whining all the way to the door, I couldn't help but laugh. So thank you everybody who sent me a text or Facebook message. You made my morning hilarious.
Walking to the shower in a haze, I remember briefly its my birthday. I take my shower (singing "its my party and I'll cry if I want to) and change into black pants, and a batman t-shirt (maybe this year Bruce Wayne will finally come for me). I get back to my room to see Moses alert, staring at my phone. I send a questioning glance his way and I begin to put on shoes ignoring the frozen pup. Then he begins to growl. I turn towards him, "what's wrong?"
He gives me a look that says, you don't know?
I shake my head, thinking of course this is crazy puppy behavior. Then the growling starts again and my phone starts to vibrate.
I bust out laughing. How scary the phone must be, a demonic creature, with a great bluish green tint and razor sharp sound effects.
Moses is growling, teeth showing, hair bristled, he hasn't bothered to get up but his whole body is alert. It's a serious yet funny sight.
"Mo, it's just my phone." I giggle at him then pick it up, to see what's going on. Facebook has exploded with birthday wishes from friends, family, and acquaintances that I can't quiet place. Apparently, my phone had been going off every minute or so with the well wishing of people both in the United States and outside of it. No wonder my Rottweiler was screaming at it.
"Geeze." I had been thinking my theme song for this years birthday would be "it's my party and I'll cry if I want to", I wasn't expecting to actually cry this morning. That just sent Moses out the window. He jumped up, started wagging his tail, and licked my hand.
It's ok, it's ok. The demon phone isn't that scary.
I laughed, because honestly, dogs. He stopped the moment I laughed, realizing I was ok, he curled back up.
"Do you want to go to work?" I asked grinning, Moses' ears perked up and he wagged his tail.
"Work?" I asked again, smile getting bigger.
He stood up, wagging his tail.
"Go?" I could help but giggle.
He stretched, jumped down, and began to whine.
My phone went off, the whine changed to a growl.
I laughed, "let's go, before you decide to attack my phone."
Puppy whining all the way to the door, I couldn't help but laugh. So thank you everybody who sent me a text or Facebook message. You made my morning hilarious.
 |
| You left me to face demons alone! |
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Girl, Rottweiler, and Bedtime
Moses goes to bed at nine o'clock every night. He walks into my mother's bedroom, curls up on his bed and proceeds to sigh and sleep. His schedual doesn't really ever change, curling up wherever his people are, if they are up past nine.
When he was very small we tried putting him a crate at night, my mother went through four nights of puppy crying, howling, barking, and whining before she decided enough. Reading a book called "The Art of Training a Puppy" we learned that, do to pack behavior, crating a puppy up at night isolates him, thus he would be nervous. The monks who wrote the book suggest buying a dog bed and tethering the puppy to your own bed at night, he can't move around much but still feels like part of the pack. The night we tried, he didn't cry at all. Problem one solved.
Moses now isn't tied up at night but a few nights ago something peculiar happened when my mother opened the door to let him get a drink.
A little past 1:00 am. Tuesday. March 5, 2013
Location: My room.
I am a pretty good sleeper, very little wakes me up, tornados pass and I sleep through them. There is one sound however that snaps me out of sleep faster than a racecar on adderal, the sound of my door opening.
At one o'clock in the morning, its even more pronounced because everything else is quiet. I freeze mid dream, and open my eyes a crack. Nobody is in my room besides me, I'm safe, back to the dream I was having about batman proposing to me (I am a geek so sue me).
Being back in slumber, it takes me a minute to register the strange noise coming from the side of the bed. It sounds like a low quality vacuum cleaner sucking in air. I crack my eye open again, but see nothing. I have a basement bedroom so there is very little light at one thirty in the morning, making it impossible to see. I assume it's my imagination (though why my marriage to Bruce Wayne would have a low quality vacuum sound, I couldn't tell you) and turn onto my back.
A short whine sounds throughout the room, I want to be there! Please!
I turn back towards the edge of the bed and peer over without peeling my head off the pillow. There sits a darker spot, wagging his tail, I hear little paws click on my wood floor. Sadly, Batman is now the furthest thing from my mind.
"Moses." I don't even bother questioning his presence. I also don't bother to think about how he opened my door.
Mo let's out another short whine, pick me up, I want up!
Being half asleep, I cringe as I get out of bed and pick him up. Apparently, at one forty five in the morning, a person forgets that the almost six month old puppy is sixty three pounds and has been athletic enough to jump onto the bed since he was three months old. After a few seconds of realizing that I really couldn't lift said puppy this early in the morning. I climbed back into bed and patted next to me, "get up here."
Mo launched himself over me and stood on the bed, waiting for me to make room. Rottweilers have a distinct want when they are with their people, they want to be as close as they possible can be. They are leaners, cuddlers, and want to be touching whoever they love. Mo is no exception to this rule. Moses, who is at the foot of the bed, begins beside my feet and works his way slowly up. When he is at my torso, he starts to inch closed until he feels my body, then he plops with a content sigh.
"Bed hog." I snarl as he pushes himself further under the blanket.
I have to be up at five thirty it's now two, so I roll over, he scoots into my back. I smile as I fall back asleep, this dog is a great cuddler.
When I get up the stairs the next morning at six, my mother stares at the puppy who follows, "Traitor."
I can't help but grin.
"What time did he come downstairs and crawl in bed with you?" My mother asks as she drinks her staple drink, diet coke.
"One, I think, what happened?"
Mom shakes her head at the dog, " I let him out into the kitchen to get a drink, normally he comes back. I realized about twenty minutes later he apparently wasn't coming back."
I laughed.
"Your bed is probably more comfortable anyway," Mom shrugs as I grab the leash and my car key, "have fun at work, both of you."
I clip the leash to Mo's red collar, "we always do, let's go Mo."
When you say the word "go" Mo whines with excitement, because he really does want to go. I grin, we head to my lime green volkswagen bug.
Six thirty am, I turn the key to the coffee shop. Moses rushes inside, over to the box with treats, grabs one, proceeds to red couch and curls up. We begin another day of work.
When he was very small we tried putting him a crate at night, my mother went through four nights of puppy crying, howling, barking, and whining before she decided enough. Reading a book called "The Art of Training a Puppy" we learned that, do to pack behavior, crating a puppy up at night isolates him, thus he would be nervous. The monks who wrote the book suggest buying a dog bed and tethering the puppy to your own bed at night, he can't move around much but still feels like part of the pack. The night we tried, he didn't cry at all. Problem one solved.
Moses now isn't tied up at night but a few nights ago something peculiar happened when my mother opened the door to let him get a drink.
A little past 1:00 am. Tuesday. March 5, 2013
Location: My room.
I am a pretty good sleeper, very little wakes me up, tornados pass and I sleep through them. There is one sound however that snaps me out of sleep faster than a racecar on adderal, the sound of my door opening.
At one o'clock in the morning, its even more pronounced because everything else is quiet. I freeze mid dream, and open my eyes a crack. Nobody is in my room besides me, I'm safe, back to the dream I was having about batman proposing to me (I am a geek so sue me).
Being back in slumber, it takes me a minute to register the strange noise coming from the side of the bed. It sounds like a low quality vacuum cleaner sucking in air. I crack my eye open again, but see nothing. I have a basement bedroom so there is very little light at one thirty in the morning, making it impossible to see. I assume it's my imagination (though why my marriage to Bruce Wayne would have a low quality vacuum sound, I couldn't tell you) and turn onto my back.
A short whine sounds throughout the room, I want to be there! Please!
I turn back towards the edge of the bed and peer over without peeling my head off the pillow. There sits a darker spot, wagging his tail, I hear little paws click on my wood floor. Sadly, Batman is now the furthest thing from my mind.
"Moses." I don't even bother questioning his presence. I also don't bother to think about how he opened my door.
Mo let's out another short whine, pick me up, I want up!
Being half asleep, I cringe as I get out of bed and pick him up. Apparently, at one forty five in the morning, a person forgets that the almost six month old puppy is sixty three pounds and has been athletic enough to jump onto the bed since he was three months old. After a few seconds of realizing that I really couldn't lift said puppy this early in the morning. I climbed back into bed and patted next to me, "get up here."
Mo launched himself over me and stood on the bed, waiting for me to make room. Rottweilers have a distinct want when they are with their people, they want to be as close as they possible can be. They are leaners, cuddlers, and want to be touching whoever they love. Mo is no exception to this rule. Moses, who is at the foot of the bed, begins beside my feet and works his way slowly up. When he is at my torso, he starts to inch closed until he feels my body, then he plops with a content sigh.
"Bed hog." I snarl as he pushes himself further under the blanket.
I have to be up at five thirty it's now two, so I roll over, he scoots into my back. I smile as I fall back asleep, this dog is a great cuddler.
When I get up the stairs the next morning at six, my mother stares at the puppy who follows, "Traitor."
I can't help but grin.
"What time did he come downstairs and crawl in bed with you?" My mother asks as she drinks her staple drink, diet coke.
"One, I think, what happened?"
Mom shakes her head at the dog, " I let him out into the kitchen to get a drink, normally he comes back. I realized about twenty minutes later he apparently wasn't coming back."
I laughed.
"Your bed is probably more comfortable anyway," Mom shrugs as I grab the leash and my car key, "have fun at work, both of you."
I clip the leash to Mo's red collar, "we always do, let's go Mo."
When you say the word "go" Mo whines with excitement, because he really does want to go. I grin, we head to my lime green volkswagen bug.
Six thirty am, I turn the key to the coffee shop. Moses rushes inside, over to the box with treats, grabs one, proceeds to red couch and curls up. We begin another day of work.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Coffee Shop, Rottweiler, and Greetings
 |
| We are waiting. |
I am sitting down by the cash register when a brunette walks
in, she is one of the regular customers at the coffee shop and loves the Rottweiler
pups. I watch Mo lethargically get off the couch, stretch, and waddle over to
the door to greet her. His tail wags and he leans against her, looking up as if
he has found true love. She obligingly scratches his head and back.
"So it's Moses today?" She smiles at me and
continues to scratch.
I am genuinely surprised. Even many of our regulars still
can't tell the two puppies apart and when they're together I have to stop the
wrestling to see which pup is mine. "How did you tell?"
She laughs, "Well they greet me differently."
I watch Moses tail wag more, see I'm special.
I can't help but grin, he's a great doorman and public
relations specialist. "How so?"
Stopping the petting, she walks over to the counter,
"Well Moses isn't truly happy I am here until he's right up next to me. He
just sort of stumble over lazily then leans against me or sits on my
foot."
I nod these are common Moses greetings.
"Vahan on the other hand," she has great laugh
lines when she smiles, " he is over by the door before I can count to
three and bouncing to get my attention and if he's not bouncing to me, he's up
on the back of his couch watching me enter and wagging his tail like mad. It
makes me feel like he cares before he gets to me."
"That sounds like both of them." I smile,
"what can I get you?"
" A sixteen ounce mocha, and a muffin." She looks
down, and her hand reaches to scratch Mo who has sat on her foot yet again.
"Alright," I turn to start making the mocha and
shortly realize that I forgot something. Spinning back around I ask, "what
kind of muffin?"
"Um... what kinds do you have?" She is obviously
distracted by the puppy.
I actually don't know as no one else had ordered a muffin
that day. I looked them over briefly and listed, " Well it looks like we
have Parmesan cheese bread, double chocolate chip muffins, apple bran muffins,
and banana bread (we always have this I should probably stop listing it)."
"Definitely chocolate."
I grab a plastic box and put the chocolate muffin in it,
make her mocha, run her credit card and wave goodbye as she leaves.
"So you greet people differently, do you?"
I looked at Moses who retires to his chair, crosses his paws
and lays his head on the arm.
I'm prince, course I greet.
"You need to work on being a little more enthused your
majesty."
Whatever.
I turn and start to wipe up the counters.
 |
| Not princess pose. Warrior Pose. |
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Coffee Shop, Rottweiler, and Pen
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crack, crunch, crunch. I look up from making a woman a 16 oz double shot vanilla latte to see the puppy chewing on a piece of rawhide. I smile, thankful he's not causing the other customers trouble and turn back to steaming milk.
The woman grins at me, "How old is he?"
I'm beginning to think I never get asked interesting questions in this coffee shop. "Five months and a couple weeks."
I'm also beginning to think there are no original things to say back. She grins, "He's so good for a baby."
My mind flashes back to the entropy forty minutes before. The sounds of wood shrieking across concrete and fur flying each way. Of a garbage can being tipped over by the two most "innocent" creatures on the planet.
"Yes," I nod, "Most of the time."
I finish the latte, "Sixteen ounce vanilla latte, four sixteen (made up number since I don't know how to calculate tax without a cash register)."
"Thank you," She snaps the white lid onto the cup with the logo of our coffee shop (a rottweiler) and sits down at one of the square black tables.
Moses, noticing the customer isn't at the counter, walks over, and sits down. His tail pulses back and forth with vigor.
"No." I turn to the sink to rinse the pitcher and glass. The woman turns to look at him, he looks forlornly back, and wags his tail once.
"What's he want?" She asked watching him curiously.
"A treat." As I say it Moses' ears perk up, he looks up at me, his eye brighten, and his tail springs back into the action. The woman gurggles as she tries not to laugh.
"He's got it down to a science doesn't he?" The woman asks after she's finished swallowing the large gulp of coffee.
Moses' ears go back as he realizes I am still not reaching for the treat jar.
I shake my head in agreement as I wipe the counter, "It is hard not to give in."
Then the pouting begins, imagine the cutest two year old in the word. Yes the one with the perfect cherubic face, dimples, and ringlet, and he/she (because really sometimes you cant tell with toddlers) is pouting at you. Begging for a cookie. Now imagine it ten thousand times worse.
A large exasperated sigh escapes Moses' lungs and he slowly lays down with extended movements. His little eyes stare up at me sadly with the look of the Pound Puppy toys. His head resting on his paws.
I ignore him.
After a few minutes he realizes this is not enough of an act to bother me. He then mopes all the way to the couch and steps up onto it instead of jumping, plopping himself down and gives me a withering stare.
The woman continues to smile as she finishes her coffee. She tosses the cup into the trash, pets Mo, then turns to leave.
Moses continues to let me have the stare. I continue to wipe up the counter.
I soon hear the crunching again and feel thankful Moses is done sending me down the guilt trip of doom. I stop cleaning to turn around and thank him. I stop and I am slowly filled with disbelief. Somehow the puppy had gotten hold of one of the pens.
An evil glint bounces off his eyes, pay back.
I hear the crunch just before I yell, "NO!"
Luckily it was a dried up pen, I didn't know that but luckily it was. I took the pen from his mouth happy it hadn't exploded. I throw it into one of our cream colored trash cans, and turn to glare at the dog.
He wags his tail.
I remember glares don't work on puppies.
The woman grins at me, "How old is he?"
I'm beginning to think I never get asked interesting questions in this coffee shop. "Five months and a couple weeks."
I'm also beginning to think there are no original things to say back. She grins, "He's so good for a baby."
My mind flashes back to the entropy forty minutes before. The sounds of wood shrieking across concrete and fur flying each way. Of a garbage can being tipped over by the two most "innocent" creatures on the planet.
"Yes," I nod, "Most of the time."
I finish the latte, "Sixteen ounce vanilla latte, four sixteen (made up number since I don't know how to calculate tax without a cash register)."
"Thank you," She snaps the white lid onto the cup with the logo of our coffee shop (a rottweiler) and sits down at one of the square black tables.
Moses, noticing the customer isn't at the counter, walks over, and sits down. His tail pulses back and forth with vigor.
"No." I turn to the sink to rinse the pitcher and glass. The woman turns to look at him, he looks forlornly back, and wags his tail once.
"What's he want?" She asked watching him curiously.
"A treat." As I say it Moses' ears perk up, he looks up at me, his eye brighten, and his tail springs back into the action. The woman gurggles as she tries not to laugh.
"He's got it down to a science doesn't he?" The woman asks after she's finished swallowing the large gulp of coffee.
Moses' ears go back as he realizes I am still not reaching for the treat jar.
I shake my head in agreement as I wipe the counter, "It is hard not to give in."
Then the pouting begins, imagine the cutest two year old in the word. Yes the one with the perfect cherubic face, dimples, and ringlet, and he/she (because really sometimes you cant tell with toddlers) is pouting at you. Begging for a cookie. Now imagine it ten thousand times worse.
 |
| I want the treat! Give them to me! |
I ignore him.
After a few minutes he realizes this is not enough of an act to bother me. He then mopes all the way to the couch and steps up onto it instead of jumping, plopping himself down and gives me a withering stare.
The woman continues to smile as she finishes her coffee. She tosses the cup into the trash, pets Mo, then turns to leave.
Moses continues to let me have the stare. I continue to wipe up the counter.
I soon hear the crunching again and feel thankful Moses is done sending me down the guilt trip of doom. I stop cleaning to turn around and thank him. I stop and I am slowly filled with disbelief. Somehow the puppy had gotten hold of one of the pens.
An evil glint bounces off his eyes, pay back.
I hear the crunch just before I yell, "NO!"
Luckily it was a dried up pen, I didn't know that but luckily it was. I took the pen from his mouth happy it hadn't exploded. I throw it into one of our cream colored trash cans, and turn to glare at the dog.
He wags his tail.
I remember glares don't work on puppies.
 |
| Pouting? I'm not pouting. |
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