Yeah, so, today’s post is brought to you by the letters “W,” “T” and “F.”
About 30 minutes ago, some random dude walked out of our shed in the front of house.
I’m working from home today, because I’m a big, fat pregnant lady, and I like to work from the couch with my feet up. Homer usually lays in a sunny spot somewhere in the house or right beside me on the couch. This afternoon he was right beside me when he perked up: standing at attention, ears up, tail up. Then he ran to the glass door and starting barking.
I figured he was barking at the birds … again. So I got the spray bottle and squirted him: “Bad Homer!” But then I looked out the window and some man walked out of our shed.
I pop off the couch and run to the door. Well, waddle actually. I grab my keys, because I don’t want to get locked out, and I waddle down the stairs, yelling, “Hey! Hey!” I waddled all the way down to the street and the dude was nowhere to be seen.
I feel really bad for squirting Homer. He was doing his job, protecting the pack, and I was spraying him with water and treating him like a jerk. I gave him a treat, and he seems to have forgiven me.