A Not So Subtle Makeover

The past two days Fergi and I have experienced a new-found freedom.

Mom's been working away from home and she's been concerned about leaving Fergi in her crate,

since she (Fergi, not Mom) has a habit of spinning and spinning in it.

Usually I stay in "My Room" and Fergi stays (spins) in her "carriage." 

But Mom was afraid Fergs would do damage to her incision or to her health, in general.

So ... Fergi's been left loose in the house.

And I've been left free with her - to supervise, of course.

That's been a first.

Mom trusted us, and her last words as she left the house were,

"Be good dogs.  I'll be back."

The first day I stayed on the main level with Fergi. All went well (mostly.)

On the second day I ventured upstairs and made myself comfortable on the Girl's bed.

 

The Girl is 17. And she has a tendency to pick things up in spurts.

And to leave things  out with frequency.

This particular day she left a small treasure on her bed.

Perhaps she left it just for me! She loves me, you know.

I recognized it as something similar to a collection of treasures she fusses with in her bathroom.

Girl stuff.

I'm always up for a new experience.

And, you know, boys will be boys.

Since the parent was away, this boy had a chance to play.

But I got caught. By the Girl. Who got home before the Mom.

Who me? What was I holding?

Oh, you mean this?

It's what? It's broken?

Oh, yeah. I guess it is.

The stuff inside is gone? Where is it?

No. I did NOT eat it.

What happened to it, then?

Ummmm.....

What did I do with it?

Well.....

Only my hairdresser knows for sure.

 

(And we won't mention what I did downstairs.)