Bad. Boy.

I cleaned my room this weekend, and the floor is now mostly visible. The Bubster has been loving being able to come in as he wishes. Before he didn't dare, lest he slip on my undies or trip on my shoes. Which he did, from time to time.

But NOW!! OH my, he's in love with my room. He slept on the floor beside my bed last night, and I was guilty the whole time--like he currently liked me better or something. I thought that might be because yesterday I spent an unusual amount of time with the boy. Took him out for coffee, picked up his poop, consoled him when the flickering power had driven his tail between his legs and his tongue into hyper pant mode.

So yeah, Bubba loves me.

When I came home from work a while ago, I wondered if he'd be on the blanket next to my bed still. He wasn't in Roommate's room on his doggie bed. He wasn't on the couch, which is his second favorite place to be. Next to my bed, right?

He wasn't.

He was ON MY BED BAD BOY BUBBA BAD BAD BAD BAD!!

(I don't care, but Roommate does. I thought it was cute.)

BAD BUBBA!