Pick Your Role Models Carefully

Gary and I, back in the halcyon days, as nearly jobless eighteen year-olds spent a summer or two sleeping until noon; watching our soap opera; going water sking; eating; sking some more; then staying up 'til 2am and repeating, would unironically look at Gary's dog, Chester, sleeping in the shade and sigh, "Man, wouldn't it be great to be a dog?"

No doubt, Max, wee little sponge that he is, has caught on that there's something to this "dog's life" thing. I mean, playing with the mixer and walking around with Blankie going "Doo-dee-doo" is all well and good but that's, like, work. Better then, Max says, to begin emulating the dog early. And what better place to begin than the place where Frankie spends most her time: dog bed.

Also, it's so freaking cute, it'll make your ears bleed.

Bonus points to me for writing this post without mentioning potty training Max with rolled up newspaper whacks.