This is my little Pomeranian, Javi. (That would be HAAA-veee, not JAAA-vee or JAY-VEE or any other atrocious mangling of his name. His real name is Javibear, which is our really obnoxiously cute variation of Javier, because he looks like a little black bear and we are that kind of embarrassing.)
|Say my name, bitch...|
It all started innocently enough this morning: I took a shower, got dressed, shut the bedroom door and went about my business. Maisy (my pug) was, per usual, in her spot under the fleece blanket on the couch. I assssssuuuuuuumed that Javi was under the couch, which is kind of his "thing" these days. (We aren't really sure why.)
As it turns out, I couldn't have been more wrong. Javi had been...
*cue slasher music*
LOCKED IN THE BEDROOM.
Javi was not happy. In fact, one might say that Javi was pissed.
He had also expressed his extreme displeasure in the following ways:
He left teeny little turds in a trail leading from the bed to the door.
I have never seen that much poop come out of one tiny little 4 lb dog. He has squeezed out every single bit of excrement that had been lingering in his wee little colon, in a perfect line, spaced about a foot apart.
At the end of the parade was an itty bitty spot of pee, about the size of a quarter.
When I opened the door, he gave me a sideways glance that clearly said, "Watch your back, bitch." Usually, he is the sweetest of little dogs, always loving and happy and full of snuggles...
But apparently, I had crossed some sort of Pomeranian-line.
"I will not be forgotten and locked in a bedroom without access to THUMBS."
He is now lying on the couch, plotting my demise.
|I will keel you in your sleep...|
I, on the other hand, am busy kissing his fluffy little ass and plying him with Pupperoni and pig ears. When I decide I've apologized enough, he pulls this shit:
|Remember the time you did THIS to me?|
It's gonna be a longggggg day.