Teaching an old dog new tricks.

I'm dogsitting for Paco over the holiday weekend. It's eight kinds of awesome because he's the best Dalmatian of all time. Also the only Dalmatian I know, but whatever. Details. And also because his dads live right near the Capitol Square, which is, like, the greatest place on earth.

Paco's pretty obedient. He follows rules--mostly of the NO YOU DO NOT BELONG ON THE FURNITURE variety. Don't tell his dads, but sometimes I cheat a little and let him snuggle with me on the couch. WHAT? I should be able to spoil my fur-"nephew." LOOK AT THAT FACE. Yeah. You tell him no.


Paco's papa sent me a text earlier tonight to remind me that if I wanted to camp out in their condo for the weekend, there are fresh sheets on the bed, so help myself, basically. Just strip 'em on Monday. I replied, letting him know not to worry. When I stay over, I said, I blow up the air mattress and snuggle with Paco.

His response: "omglolz. Explains what happened with the house guests last week!"

I paused. Oh boy. What happened with the house guests, or did I even want to know? Great. There was probably a hole in the air mattress from doggy claws because I foolishly allowed a dog to sleep on an inflatable bed. Just add that to the list of friends' furniture that I've defiled lately. (Don't ask).

DAMMIT. You can't take me anywhere.

I panicked a little, waiting for his response. Biting my nails, wondering what I possibly could've done to muddy the visit of his guests. And then he sent me this:

And I smiled like a proud damn mama. Way to go, Paco. Way to go. We're going to rule the holiday weekend.