A Brief Tale of Sausage Dogs and Dog Beds

One of the dachshunds developed an upset stomach overnight, and we woke up this morning to several poo patties in different parts of the house. This, like penicillin, I discovered by accident, but with my foot. So today I worked downstairs to keep an eye on the dogs.

Ordinarily, we keep a dog bed in the living room for Fozzie, because, while we’re pretty sure he loves us, he definitely loves to be by himself 80% of the time.

Things started off fine. Molly was asleep on the couch, Kirby was in the dog bed, and Fozzie was in some other room. (He really does enjoy being in a different room!)

Fozzie eventually joined us, but stood there looking rather perplexed at Kirby in the bed, like “where I go sleep?” So, because I am benevolent, I brought out a second bed out for Fozzie, and all was well.

Until some time later when I look up, and see Molly has moved from the couch to a dog bed. This was fine, except it happened to be the same bed that Fozzie was currently in. Faces not pictured, but neither looked very comfortable.

So I brought out a third dog bed, which Molly promptly moved into, and, at last, the kingdom finally knew peace. (Kirby is one of the lumps that is the Colts blanket.)

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