I suppose it had to happen. Jake and Herc finally decided that a particular one of the 4 rawhide bones we’d handed out had to be “mine”, and determined to settle the dispute like men morons.
Cue lots of shouting, many uninterrupted hours of kennel-time, one strained shoulder (mine), and about 5 band-aids on my right hand from getting caught between a rock and a hard place (or more accurately, a Jake-body and an entertainment center). The dogs are just fine, thanks very much — I’m the only casualty.
Thankfully, our time with the guest-dogs is over today, and if I play my cards right I’ll come home after work to the quiet (hah!), gentle (har!) adoration of only two dogs.
You know why we have two dogs, don’t you?
Because we don’t want three.
