Bear wishes, so badly, that he lived in the country.
He also wishes I drove a pickup truck, so he could be pickup dog.
That would fulfill all of Bear’s wildest dreams.
I sure wouldn’t have to deal with slobber flowing down my windows, if he were a pickup dog….
Bear is not really all eat up with smarts, if you know what I mean. He’s one of the friendliest, silliest, most fun-loving-est dogs you’ll ever meet, but when it comes to staying out of trouble, he’s kind of, um, shall we say, dim-witted.
We still have no earthly idea what bit him last time he was out and about in the country. Whatever it was, it took a good little chunk out of his neck.
But, that doesn’t slow down Bear. He’s happiest when running around jumping in and out of tanks, riding in cars, and chasing rabbits.
I honestly believe he leaves a part of his heart out there every time we come home to the city.
Happy, go-lucky dog!
Sad, pitiful, little puppy dog…
Poor baby. I’m thinking he needs a fix. A country fix.