My roommate, Keri (yes, spelled like the lotion), does not have a parking spot in our garage. She bravely parks her car along the streets of NW Lakeview, dodging street cleaning signs, door dingers, and Cubs night games. This often means that she has a healthy walk to her car in the morning, or at night, when she needs to go somewhere.
Late the other night, she took the dog with her when she needed to get something from her car. She said that it made her feel better, having him with her, just in case. Her logic is not totally askew, given that he basically turns into one of the extras from Stephen King's Pet Cemetary whenever someone comes to the door.
See? Almost as frightening as visible panty lines.
However, once he greets the vile visitor (often a Pizza Capri delivery person, or a friend), he's back to being a roly-poly butterball of a cuddling dog. If we're on a walk, he's so friendly with strangers that I often feel that he would rather jump in a double stroller with some nice, Chicago family and go home to play with their children.
So basically he's a little confused about when to guard, and when to welcome. Witness the following photo, taken while he was growling at the door. The back door. If our apartment ever gets burgled by someone who has climbed to the 2nd floor back deck, and broken into the kitchen, then I guess we're protected.
Guard dog, MY EYE!
Late the other night, she took the dog with her when she needed to get something from her car. She said that it made her feel better, having him with her, just in case. Her logic is not totally askew, given that he basically turns into one of the extras from Stephen King's Pet Cemetary whenever someone comes to the door.
See? Almost as frightening as visible panty lines.
However, once he greets the vile visitor (often a Pizza Capri delivery person, or a friend), he's back to being a roly-poly butterball of a cuddling dog. If we're on a walk, he's so friendly with strangers that I often feel that he would rather jump in a double stroller with some nice, Chicago family and go home to play with their children.
So basically he's a little confused about when to guard, and when to welcome. Witness the following photo, taken while he was growling at the door. The back door. If our apartment ever gets burgled by someone who has climbed to the 2nd floor back deck, and broken into the kitchen, then I guess we're protected.
Guard dog, MY EYE!
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