Psycho Dog!

I love Thomas, my possibly intoxicated English Bulldog puppy I mentioned a few posts ago. I do, and I even let him sleep in my bed as long as he stays above the covers and doesn't drool. However, every relationship has an invisible line in the proverbial sand and last night Thomas trampled all over it. Background story? But of course.

I typically shower with the door closed and locked. Of course I live alone so it's pretty irrational, but chalk it up to having seen "Psycho" at too impressionable an age. Last night, or properly this morning since I didn't get home from my "End of The Semester Paper-Writing Jamboree" until 2:00 a.m. I threw caution to the wind and showered with the bathroom door open.

Bad idea.

See Thomas, loves two things. Water and Me. Well, three things really if you include "destroying anything Rhiannon likes or needs" and he came gallumphing into the bathroom and launched all fifty pounds of head and slobber into the tub, bringing the shower curtain crashing down and knocking down all my froofy girly stuff.

In the aftermath, with the curtain and rod around my knees and all my expensive conditioner swirling the drain there's Thomas, panting heavily and smiling up, a bottle of body wash in his jaws.