After a quick hi-how-are-you-nice-to-see-you-again butt sniff, I started for the door, looking forward to that snooze and not at all prepared to be mugged by a tangle of uncoordinated legs, wildly flapping red ears and a dangling slice of ham otherwise known as a tongue.
Trying to avoid a slap from that sloppy wet tongue, I repeated the back door greeting long enough to find out that the intruder’s name was Clancy, and he was four months older than I was. He charged into the house ahead of me and slid feet first across the tile into the couch. The couch! Exactly what I was looking for. I stood on my hind legs and pawed at the sofa cushions as my back feet scrambled for a boost up. I hauled myself aboard, sprawled on my belly. OK, not the most graceful display, but not bad for an eleven week old pup. After kicking a couple of pillows on to the floor, I circled a couple of times before curling up in the corner, whereupon I wailed a bit just to hear the sound of my own lovely voice. Then, along with the side benefit of ear scrunches from Maggie, I let go of my eyelids and drifted into dreamland.