Oliver
Meet Oliver, my roommate’s dog. I will be the first to admit that he is one of the cutest dogs I’ve seen. I will also be the first to chuck him across the room because he is so annoying. (Relax PETA — it’s a joke). Among other things, for whatever reason, he has an unhealthy obsession for his bone. But here’s the thing: he has not once chewed on it. All he does is carry it around until he finds the perfect little hiding spot, buries it, and then stands guard, threatening everyone (especially men) who comes near it.
Last night, he buried his bone in my bed before I went to sleep. I found it when I made my bed the next morning and put it on top of the fridge because I didn’t want to have to deal with it all day. My plan worked until it was time to go to bed the next night. Sure enough, as Oliver does, he remembered exactly where he hid it and — when he discovered it was no longer there — he was angry with me. Seriously angry. He sniffed my hands to see if I touched it; he sniffed my mouth to see if I ate it; he sniffed every corner of my room to see if I re-hid it; and then he sat down right in front of me and just stared at me as if to say — and I’m not kidding — “Where’s my bone, Bit@h?” Ridiculous… but still, cute in his own little completely obnoxious way.
The Love Shoebox 