Puppies on Alcatraz

Journal excerpt dated 01/28/08:

For those of you wondering when you were going to read any more of my “pet epistles,” today is your day. Thought you might find this one amusing. Oh, and I’ve discovered that raising animals in a dual male household brings a whole new meaning to the term “animal husbandry.” I think that may have to be the title of the book I never write. But if I do… Chapter One? “Chloe Wears My Underwear” — yeah, you read that right. But that’s for another post. In the meantime, here you go…

The puppies are in a terminal time-out this morning. I heard them playing, and the sounds were muffled, not loud, as usual. I went into the guest room to investigate, and they had jumped on the bed and were playing under/over the comforter, between the pillows, etc. The bed was completely un-made. When they heard me yell, they scrambled to all points of the condo to get away. I had to crawl under the dining room table to get Samson, and then found Chloe hiding under the reading chair in the den. I had to turn it over and grab her before she ran again. Needless to say, they know they were bad. They are in the punishment kennel and have not made a peep in 10 minutes. And Geronimo? After the commotion, I sat back down at the computer to hear: “I’m a good boy.”
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