My dog consistently proves to be the smarter one between us. For about two hours he was bugging me. Pawing at me, squeaking, whining, the whole nine yards. I hadn't the faintest why he wanted my attention, since it'd only been an hour or so since I had let him out.
Despite that, I took him out, again, and surprise, surprise, he took a huge dump. Go figure. We went back inside and I resumed my netflix binge. (yay supernatural) Next up, more whining, pawing and whimpering as I sat back down to continue my Sam and Dean fix. I couldn't figure out, after taking him outside, what the hell he wanted. I got up multiple times to find a toy for him, I gave him biscuits, I tried playing with him, everything!!!
Then I remembered that during his first hissy fit I had given him a bone. I sat back down, and found his bone, lodged under my laptop. Duh. That is all he was trying to tell me. What a good doggy. As my mom says, "If he only spoke English."
I remember coming back from Maine and we had to pull over on the highway for Solo to go. He let us know though and held it like a good boy.
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