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Little Dog Gets Under Foot

Me: Little Dog, you’re going to kill me one night with this under-foot stuff.

Little Dog: I have to be close for this to work.

Me: It’s the part where you keep backing into me that I’m finding hard to navigate.

Little Dog: If I don’t back into you, you won’t know where I am, and if you don’t know where I am, I can’t help you find the bedroom.

Me: I know where the bedroom is.

Little Dog: What does that have to do with anything?

Me: I’m saying whatever’s going on here is a you problem, not a me problem.

Little Dog: Look. I am literally driven to do be near you.

Me: I know, I know.

Little Dog: I’ve been bred over generations to cultivate this compulsion.

Me: I guess so.

Little Dog: By humans. Humans did this to me.

Me: Although if the pound’s to be believed, you’re only a quarter shepherd, so…

Little Dog: Helping you navigate is in my DNA, is all I’m saying. You’re always saying I don’t have instincts.

Me: I don’t say that.

Little Dog: Well I do. I do have instincts. My instincts tell me that I have to help you get to bed.

Me: I’m sorry. This clearly stresses you out.

Little Dog: Thank you. It does.

Me: Although, new problem.

Little Dog: Yes?

Me: I can’t get into bed if I can’t get through the door.

Little Dog: And?

Me: I can’t get through the door with you standing in it.

Little Dog: That’s a you problem, not a me problem.


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