Thursday, June 11, 2009

There's a reason his name isn't Lassie

Last night I was playing with Cujo after his bath and I decided to see what kind of rescue dog he would be. How would he respond in an emergency? I lay down on the bedroom floor, face down, and started saying "Help! Help!" Cujo tried to move my hands so I would pet him. I continued to cry for help, and he ran out of the bedroom. I heard him running around like crazy in the living room and kitchen. I thought, "Oh great! He's going to the doors trying to get out and find help, or he's looking for another person in the house. He would try and save me! He understands!" After a little bit of running around, the dog gallops into the bedroom with a toy in his mouth, jumps on the bed, and drops the toy on me.

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