Sometimes I sit in the Living room and look into the Old Guy’s room. I’m not allowed in there unless it is early in the morning when he sits in his chair and gets dressed. Despite underneath the bed looking so tempting, it is classified as a big-no-no. Only a neat line of shoes and the likes are permitted. But, that old beds underbelly, make no mistake, does look like temptation personified to me.
This is where I nap and rest during the day while the Old Guy works on his computer, watches television or actually accomplishes something. During the hottest part of the day, this is a pretty good place to rest and be comfortable. In this Selfie, I can be seen resting with my eyes closed, while the Old Guy is napping instead of getting some work done inside, outside or on paper.
A short time after I came to live with the Old Guy the “Trash Incident” happened. I was blamed for it all … during and after the clean-up. Along with the continuous fussin’, I got a thirty minute “Time Out” which was served on the front room couch. The Old Guy was quite animated about the whole affair and kept reminding me “Not to get off that Couch!” I also heard “Bad Dog” repeated a lot.
Late that same evening, well after my Time Out was served, the trash was found to be in a tall kitchen container sitting up off the floor. I suppose with these new insurmountable precautions, whoever got into the last trash bag won’t be able to repeat their stealthy performance. I know it looked bad … since I was the only one home that specific afternoon, but the house has been known to shelter mice now and again. When the blame was being pointed out that fact didn’t come up.