When I came home from the gym this morning, sweaty and tired, I went straight to the bathroom for a shower. I dropped my sweaty gym shorts and underpants to the floor, stepped out of them, and pulled my shirt and sports bra over my head. In those few seconds, my underpants disappeared.
Topping my short suspect list was the dark gray underpants thief named Dougal.
I looked down the hall and saw him standing there, underpants dangling from his mouth, a challenging gleam in his eye. We stared each other down for several seconds before I launched forward and the chase began.
Down the hall, around the dining room table, through the living room, back down the hall, to the bedroom, back through the bathroom, and around and around again. For a dog that’s built like one of those log reindeers at Christmas, he sure can hustle when he wants to.
After several laps and a few near-misses (and Barley running interference), Dougal ended up making his usual mistake: he tried to squeeze his full-figured self under the bed. He can fit, but it takes him several seconds to wriggle and squirm his girth under there, and, by that time, I can usually grab his hips and slide him back out.
If you’ve ever doubted dogs feel real emotions, try taking away a freshly-worn pair of stolen underpants from Dougal. He slumped in a heap and stared up at me, heartbroken and defeated, but determined to win another day.
Happy Tuesday, everybody!