Hello. It’s me!!
On a random trip into the closet, I found this sock in one of the bins, so I selected it as a preferred chewie, eschewing the lovely stick sitting right in front of my face.
You see, pre-laundered socks have just the right combination of male foot sweat and embedded particles to really tempt the taste buds.
And I honestly don’t understand why Dad would sneak up on me and demand that I relinquish my newly found hosiery.
Then this happens.
Dad you ?$&# stop taking my sock … stop it … MINE!
Tough being the smaller one in sock-possession battle, isn’t it.
Watzamatta, your wheels didn’t work?
After all, you were just doing what you were bred for. Ferreting out those odiferous Badgers that could also reek like your Dad’s socks.
Tell the old man that you were only doing what you were bred for. Ferreting out those odferous Badgers that could reek just like his smelly socks.
– My dog Shannon ( now in Doggie Heaven – sigh) used to play tug-o-war with a towel. He loved towels. My mom used to give him a new towel for his Birthday every year.
Maybe your dad will buy some new socks–wear them so they get smelly and then give them to you. Just a thought!! Hang in there–mom will be home soon. Auntie Janet
Dash, I feel your rejection. My Mom and Dad are just as rigid. No socks OR shoes. Luckily I can catch a stray and run from them all around the house. (If only there was a doggy door.) Hang in there, they will forget and give you an opening for a quick “swoop and run”. Colette Rodewald