Thursday, December 18, 2014

Upper Story Privileges

If you're new here, you'll need some back story. I came from Missouri, and drove with mom and dad the 16 hours home with them. I was just getting adjusted to my new home when mom tripped over me while making dinner one evening. Turns out, she broke my leg.


I was a cute wee yellow burrito, no?

I was pretty concerned about not keeping up with mom when I was wearing that cast, and stressed immensely when she wasn't in sight. I even drug myself up the stairs one day looking for her, and steps were a hurdle for a tiny thing like me even without that bulky thing on my leg. Mom was not happy that I mastered the steps, saying something about falling and breaking another leg or a back... But after that she carried me upstairs every time she went just to keep me safe.

This is funny, because dogs in our house aren't allowed upstairs. The peoples I live with are allergic to dogs and like to breathe easy at night without dog dander wreaking havoc with their sinuses. But because mom broke me, I have the privilege of being upstairs. And downstairs in the basement. It's sweet. Mom is never out of my sight. Ever.

EVER.

Because I'm a frenchie and love to joke around, I like to tease my sisters about not being able to come upstairs like I can. Mom generally puts the nix on things like me standing at the top of the stairs and barking at the girls, but sometimes I do it anyway. However, I recently learned a new fun reason for being able to go upstairs or in the basement when the girls can't. On rare occasions, mom will give us each a special bone, like the ones you can get from Jones Natural Chews, Despite the fact that we all have our own, we like to hoard as many as we can. Jill hides them behind the sofa. Margo hides them under the pillow in the suitcase dog bed. Cooper just sits on hers. Literally. But me? When I find a bone that's been hidden or is currently unprotected, I take that thing upstairs or down to the sewing room, BECAUSE I CAN.


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