My dog has 2 beds, plus our bed which he routinely takes over so we are sleeping on the edges. I washed his bed that stays in the living room because 1) it was nasty and 2) the laundry tag attached to the bed said it was washable. The laundry tag lied. At the end of the wash cycle, my washing machine was full of stuffing. I thought – no big deal and bagged the stuffing and the innard-less cloth bed in a trash bag (13 gallon). The innards and the flat bed filled the whole bag.
I figured the dog wouldn’t notice because he has another bed, our bed, a sofa…you get the picture. He owns everything in the house except my computer. He has a ramp to the sofa I use as a foot rest when he is not using it.
Today, I’m doing dishes, wondering where the dog is. He is in the living room staring at the spot where his bed, the one the washing machine killed, used to sit. Just staring, nose down like “What is this void? Where is my bed? What has happened? Is this the end of the world?”
I finished the dishes and walked to Ross. They were all out of his size beds so I had to get him a smaller one. He didn’t seemed to mind. He crammed himself into it, and hung his head on the rim, sighed and went to sleep.
The dog owns me.