I played a little game with Mommy this morning. Every time she tried to entice me up the stairs so she could keep an eye on me while she dressed, I did things like stop half-way, grab one of her shoes that had been left on a step, then hightail it back down, rump-bump-a-thumping all the way. When Mommy discovered my little trick and dragged me upstairs, I grabbed Daddy's pajama bottoms from the utility room floor and ran for my life. Mommy caught me again, and this time I had to stay in the bathroom with her, but that too had its opportunities. When Mommy tried to step into her underpants, I sank my teeth into one edge and pulled. I thought they were mine--after all, they were pink and I'm a girl.
Mommy, being bigger and stronger and having absolutely no sympathy for a bare-bottomed puppy, prevailed, finished dressing, then accompanied me downstairs, but not before I'd noticed her nightgown and heavy winter robe hanging from a high hook. In a nanosecond, they were on the floor. All it took was a little tug.
Don't blame me. These puppy teeth crave action.
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