I don’t think anyone would actually call me a dog lover. If anything, I’m a dog tolerator. Some dogs I like more than others, and those usually fall under the category of small, cute, and well behaved. For the most part, my best friend’s dog falls into this category. He’s a little bundle of joy and she loves him beyond reason, and because he’s never done anything to me except lick me a little and jump up and down when I walk in the door, I have always thought he was pretty cool too.
This weekend, I stayed over on Saturday night and Polo greeted me with the same excitement that he always does. When we got back to the house after dinner I had noticed my sweats in the middle of the hallway and figured he was the culprit. No worries… I just picked them back up and was grateful it wasn’t a pair of undies. Now, I should mention that these are no ordinary pair of sweats. They happen to be my fancy pair. What I mean by this is that they were ridiculously expensive for sweats, especially considering I have a closet full that were free, but these particular ones are cute enough to wear in public and not look frumpy. I rock them endlessly and shamelessly and had no plans on stopping any time in the near future.
In fact, after I had worn my Easter dress for the appropriate amount of time over at our family get together the next day and had decided that it was time to change into comfy clothes, I instantly went for my trusted sweatpants. I headed back into the dining room, decked in my finest cotton and proceeded to chat with the room full of people gathered in the kitchen as I leaned on the island that separated the two rooms. And then I heard it. Laughing. Loud, uncontrollable, can’t catch your breath laughing coming from behind me. I didn’t bother to turn around as I was engaged in another conversation but after some time my cousin was behind me whispering in my ear. Your pants are split in the back Bri. Bummer, a small tear in the seam of my pants and I am horrible with a thread and needle. But then I felt it…her fingers touching the flesh on my bum without any wiggling to get them in there. I immediately froze. Oh.Dear.God. This is no sliver. There I was, leaning on a counter with my butt stuck out to the room, with a HUGE unwanted cooling system I was unaware of. And they were not looking at my undergarments... unfortunately, they saw pure flesh. I happen to think undergarments are not necessary with sweats and this was a time when I really wanted to re-think this theory.
I ran to a room to assess the damage and change my clothes once again and it was then that I saw the damage…damage that could not be done on accident. This hole was big enough for my whole fist could fit in if need be. And then I knew. The darn dog. He ate my favorite sweatpants and embarrassed me in front of friends and family. I don’t know how he can repay me, but he sure better try.