Today, I am going to be one of those people who blogs about their animals like they're children.
Because, the BeagleWeagle is my wittle, bittle, baby Brown doggie woggy!
Speaking of, he is. That's what you get for wrestling an entire loaf of wheat bread onto the kitchen floor, and McGyvering it open with your teeth.
Last night, the Dad found the remaining 1/3 of the loaf, still in the plastic bag, in his dog dish.
In his dog dish! Like ... 'hey, Humans. Caretakers of mine? Yeah, listen. I am Too. Full. to eat the rest of this loaf of bread, but I so call DIBS on it for later.'
He was one bloated Beagle the rest of the evening. As he lay in his bed later, on my side of the bed, snoring, his stomach made some awful sounds. I am surprised, and grateful, those sounds led to nothing.
This morning, I told the lil' dude all about her fat doggy and his misbehavior. Her lip began to tremble ... she looked at me with her huge, sad hazel eyes and said, that was MY bread!
Oh yeah, have I mentioned we're in THAT stage now?