Tuesday, October 2, 2012


... is the overlord of this manor.

When Elliott and I are working away (read: eating pasta with our fingers) in the office Biggie is incredibly uncomfortable at floor-level. He pesters us by prodding us with his paw, standing up on his hind legs and digging his talons into our knees, or just refusing to lie still.

The only, and the most humiliating, solution is to put his dog bed on the desk and work around him.

This is while Elliott still had pasta left. What a pest.
Even after all the people-food was gone he settled in and is still breathing heavily at me while I'm trying to type.

fresh after a traumatizing nail-clipping session (see jags)

We're just players in this asshole's life.

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