I'm sitting here tonight watching a George Strait tribute (funny how I know the words to every song they've played, huh?) , or trying to anyways, with CharlieGodammit's teeth around my ankle, his paw resting on my other foot, and him snoring on top of that. I got to thinking that this dog is a real pain in the ass, then I realized that the foot that his paw was resting on was rubbing his belly.
Then I got to thinking how I don't have anger in my voice when I see what he chewed up while I was at work, how I go and police up the socks from the laundry basket in the back yard without hollering at him, and how much I worry about him when I'm at work.
I think I'm starting to get a bit attached to that damned cur dog.
And here's a picture of him at his favorite pastime: ripping up my 12 pack cartons. At least he ain't drinking my beer anymore.......
