It doesn’t seem that I can make a move without being observed. He is a canine version of George Orwell’s Big Brother.
My wife is in
He has decided he will express his concern for her whereabouts by sticking like glue to me and being certain that he knows where I am. He’s been to pee with me. He’s been to the pool with me. He’s been into the kitchen with me. He patiently sat at my feet while I made a sandwich.
I can't figure out how to ditch him. He's right under my feet every time I look down.
He lay by the edge of the pool while I sunned. He barked his Dachsund ass off at two squirrels, which appeared to shoot the finger at him; or at least the squirrel equivalent of the same. He barked at the neighbor’s dog. The neighbor’s dog in a fit of vast dog intelligence barked back with great passion. When I went inside he followed me, seeming to surrender in the war with the squirrels and neighbor dog.
When I went into the living room he followed. He wanted to sit in my lap.
He smells bad because he’s been lying in the sun. I smell bad too, but then I can take a shower and I’m too lazy to wash his ‘clinging to me’ furry dog butt.
I don’t think he cares if he stinks anyway.
Dear wife, please come home before I kill the guard…err…I mean your dog.