My parents have the cutest dog in the world.
He is a cocker spaniel and his name is Buddy.
He is aptly named because he is my dad's buddy. He loves cuddling with him in his favorite chair or sleeping with him in bed.
Buddy is twelve years old now and deaf as a doorknob. (or is it doornail? Whatever.)
He is a barking dog and now that he is older there are times when he doesn't realize that there are people walking their dogs on the street and my parents will get a reprieve from the ferocious barking and snarling of teeth (a little exaggerated, of course, for dramatic purposes).
He will occasionally see the passing car by chance and bark his ever-lovin' head off and I'll hear my mom yell the usual, "Buddy!" and I often wonder if he even hears her. He can still see her face, though, and the firm, no-nonsense look she gives him quiets the dog, but I can tell how hard it is for him not to bark by the continued rumbling in his throat.
While visiting about a week ago, Buddy became my cuddle buddy. This wasn't a good thing, though. That meant Buddy was lieing on the couch next to me. Which wasn't allowed.
Oops.
I should have realized since Mom's couch is white.
White.
Buddy is black as midnight and has fur as soft as the softest stuffed animal. Grumpy would have been pea-green with envy. So, when Buddy jumped onto the couch and snuggled up next to me, I thought he was allowed and it was perfectly fine with me. I enjoyed running my fingers through his silky hair.
So, when Dad told Buddy to get off the couch, I joked, "I'm just his sister. He won't listen to me."
Throughout my visit, Buddy got to be bad. I think that's why he liked me so much. We spent the whole week cuddling together on the couch.
At the end of my visit, Mom took Buddy for a walk and he came in with dirty paws. He immediately jumped onto the couch and left Buddy-size paw prints on her very white couch. Since I was in the kitchen at the time all I heard was, "Buuuudddddyyyyy!!!" in a Mother-is-exasperated-voice.
Poor Buddy. I come to visit and now he's in trouble.
He is a cocker spaniel and his name is Buddy.
He is aptly named because he is my dad's buddy. He loves cuddling with him in his favorite chair or sleeping with him in bed.
Buddy is twelve years old now and deaf as a doorknob. (or is it doornail? Whatever.)
He is a barking dog and now that he is older there are times when he doesn't realize that there are people walking their dogs on the street and my parents will get a reprieve from the ferocious barking and snarling of teeth (a little exaggerated, of course, for dramatic purposes).
He will occasionally see the passing car by chance and bark his ever-lovin' head off and I'll hear my mom yell the usual, "Buddy!" and I often wonder if he even hears her. He can still see her face, though, and the firm, no-nonsense look she gives him quiets the dog, but I can tell how hard it is for him not to bark by the continued rumbling in his throat.
While visiting about a week ago, Buddy became my cuddle buddy. This wasn't a good thing, though. That meant Buddy was lieing on the couch next to me. Which wasn't allowed.
Oops.
I should have realized since Mom's couch is white.
White.
Buddy is black as midnight and has fur as soft as the softest stuffed animal. Grumpy would have been pea-green with envy. So, when Buddy jumped onto the couch and snuggled up next to me, I thought he was allowed and it was perfectly fine with me. I enjoyed running my fingers through his silky hair.
So, when Dad told Buddy to get off the couch, I joked, "I'm just his sister. He won't listen to me."
Throughout my visit, Buddy got to be bad. I think that's why he liked me so much. We spent the whole week cuddling together on the couch.
At the end of my visit, Mom took Buddy for a walk and he came in with dirty paws. He immediately jumped onto the couch and left Buddy-size paw prints on her very white couch. Since I was in the kitchen at the time all I heard was, "Buuuudddddyyyyy!!!" in a Mother-is-exasperated-voice.
Poor Buddy. I come to visit and now he's in trouble.
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