7/9/2011 - a bedroom version of The Sound of Music. . .

Sam and Grr tend to wake up before I do, and on weekdays, Sam runs off to the gym and Grr lays quietly at my feet until I get out of bed.  On weekends, though, without the necessity to get up, they both just lounge in bed and goof off until I inevitably can no longer sleep, and we all make our way downstairs.

Grr has developed a rather unhealthy obsession with our dirty clothes, so this morning, he grabbed a pair of underwear from a pile in the closet and brought it back to bed.  Sam thought it would be funny to put it over his head and stage a bedroom version of The Sound of Music with our dog starring as Fraulein Grr:

And it might have been riotously hilarious had Grr not flown into a frenzy trying to pull it off of his head, squarely punching me in the eye with his paw while doing so.  It took all of a millisecond for the pain to go from my eye to my mouth: "OW! FFFUUUUCCCKKK!"  I hid my face in a pillow and started wondering if I went blind, and how an eye patch would totally not go with the new shoes I just bought the other day.

When the pain subsided, or at least dialed down a notch, I noticed that all was quiet.  Sam said not a word, and Grr was no longer thrashing about.  I peeked out with my maimed eye and saw him looking at me, habit still on his head.  I had scared him.

A minute later, he nestled his face into the crook of my arm, licking it every few seconds with a tentative tongue.  He knew I was mad and was trying to make nice.  "No, pup, you're mean!" I retorted, and pulled away from him.  More silence and stillness.  Another minute later, he gently tapped me in the back with his paw, then another, then he pushed his head against my shoulder.

Maybe I anthropomorphize him a bit sometimes, but I really couldn't stay mad at him.  It was an accident after all, and his little nudges reminded me of myself as a kid, testing the waters with my parents after the many episodes of trouble I found myself in.  So I kissed his little chin, rubbed his ears, and he went right back to squirreling himself all over the bed as if nothing had happened, narrowly missing me in the face with his feet.

Guess he really is my boy after all. . .