Tag Archives: mischief
There’s a story here.
Betty was in the house one lovely afternoon when Pickles walked in whimpering.
Why are you crying?
You’ve had lunch.
You went for a walk.
The back door is open, so you can go outside anytime you like.
Many years ago, Betty bought a chair. She liked this chair; it was comfortable, came with an ottoman to put her feet up and looked nice by her living room window. Sitting in her chair to read a good book was especially a pleasure.
Since then, the ottoman has been claimed – and renamed “pickleman” – for napping in the sun and monitoring the front yard for other dogs with the audacity to walk by. And now, Pickles wants the chair.
Even though Betty happens to be sitting in it.
Because it was terrible.
I know – I know – there was a friend in the backyard last night wanting to play with me. We all knew. I begged and cried and pleaded with Betty to let me out. She refused (she’s stone cold). So I went to Poppy to make my case; he just kept snoring. I never got to play with what I’m sure would have been a wonderful new friend, based on the noise in the yard.