1. The bed just creaked! Is this the middle of the night trip the lady does to the bathroom, or is it THE CREAK OF CREAKS THAT THEY ARE GETTING UP TO LET ME OUT AND FEED ME OH JOY OH JOY I THINK IT MUST BE THAT! I will wag my tail so hard that it cracks the plaster on the wall next to me! I will spin in a circle to make my tags jingle like the Bells of Saint Marys! Oh happy, blessed day, they are going to wake up and talk to me and pet my ears! Plus, FOOD!
Oh. False Alarm. The lady just flushed the toilet and went back to bed.
Unrelated: why is the man yelling at me to quiet down?
2. Again with the wet lawns. Well, the good news is she’s finally awake, and we’re outside in the front yard where the sprinklers have just turned off, which means all I have to do is relieve myself and then she’ll fill my dog dish with those delicious crunchy brown nuggets. But why does she insist that I have to walk onto the wet grass to do my business? Sure, I’ll eat the toxic sludge that the man hoses out of the green bin where the compost goes, I’ll roll around in the poo of whatever creature scents the trail, I’ll drink from a puddle that has a petroleum oil slick on top. But do NOT expect me to dampen my dainty paws, lady. I’ll hold it til lunchtime if I have to.
3.) I’m exhausted by all the activity. I’m going back to bed.
4.) LADY! LADY THERE ARE GANGS OF MURDEROUS THUGS TRYING TO BREAK INTO THE HOUSE! DANGER! DANGER! PANIC!
What’s that you say? A book fell off a shelf upstairs? Huh. You know now that about it, I was sleeping pretty hard right then. I may have overreacted.
Carry on.
5.) *click of leash being removed so I can run free on the trail through the redwoods*: I smell something! I smell something else! I smelled that other thing so hard that it made me sneeze! If I just get in here hard enough, bet I can inhale this entire lawn!
6.) I’m exhausted by all the activity. I’m going back to bed.
7.) Uh, do you not see me staring at you from this spot on the rug? The spot where my bed should be? So I can lie near you and watch you read your book? Fine. I’ll make that weird almost-talking noise that German Shorthaired Pointers make–arglomrumph! Got your attention on that, huh? But you’re still not moving my bed. That’s fine, I can glare at you all day. Feel me glaring? Feel me glaring? I’m throwing down another talk noise, too. RAFLOMOGRUMPH. Bet you can’t keep reading your book through THAT.
Ha.
Thanks for bringing me the bed, lady.
Speaking of inscrutable thoughts, this video left me more confused than even Peter Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock. Frank Ocean is Thinking About You. Anyone want to tell me what’s going on here?