Dog

Tye's in the living room lying on the sofa thinking I don't know it.  I'll go roust him in a little while.  He's a good dog and his crimes, such as they are, are minor.  Occasionally some good snack will disappear from the counter if left within inches of the edge.  He's a crotch sniffer, no denying that.  Yipes.  And he sits on the overstuffed furniture in the living room, even though he knows he's not supposed to.

He's such a good guy to have around, we don't really complain much about his foibles.  He is an agreeable creature, prone to making the rounds, collecting scratches behind ears and various rubs from each available human.  He will fetch until the earth opens up to swallow him, and can locate amazingly small items thrown into high grass, in the dark.  Tye is a pretty good frisbee catcher unless there's something more interesting, like another dog, or a tennis ball around.

Tye loses his mind over tennis balls.  We tried to catch frisbees at Kevin's one time, but as soon as he saw all the tennis balls lying around it was frisbees be damned.  The slimier the better, there is nothing quite like a well seasoned tennis ball.

Every once in a while, Tye gets a little uppity and has to be told to find a place and lie down.  He expresses his resentment through pointed, long groans.  Tye could do Streetcar Named Desire in dog speak.

Just what we need in our house: more drama.