When you jump the reinforced fence during your morning constitutional and no one in the house notices until a kid spots you chilling on the front lawn and no one in the house is wearing pants, it’s upsetting.
Coming home from mass to a Jackson Pollock-like creation made with your own poo pretty much sucked.
But, when I was sewing a finishing line that needed to be straight and neat and you flopped yourself down on top of the pedal so that I couldn’t stop OR get you off? I could’ve killed you.
Not cool, dog. Not cool.
You’d better watch your tail pooch,