One day last week, I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen Maxwell since we’d returned from our morning walk. I wasn’t very concerned because he can’t get out of the house, and although he usually likes to sit near me, he sometimes chooses very strange places to spend the day – down by the garage, for the cool tiles, or up near the dirty laundry for the delicious smells (I assume).
I checked upstairs – he was nowhere. I looked in his crate, and at the garage entrance – still no dog. As I was wandering around the living room in confusion – because although tiny, he’s a dog and there aren’t that many places to which he could have escaped – out popped a furry head.
This is totally unposed – he had jumped onto the futon and burrowed himself into the pillows, and had evidently been sleeping totally ensconced for some time.
I watched him for the rest of the day, sometimes encouraging him to come out, but nothing doing. He was happy where he was.
“You think I want to move?”
“Because I don’t.”
Eventually he shifted around a little and popped his head out the other side…
…but he still didn’t want to move.
“Still not budging. Don’t even think about it.”
But even the laziest of pups has to come out of hibernation sooner or later.
Stretching and yawning…
… and scratching some itches …
… are definitely necessary after seven straight hours of relaxation.
But oh man, all that “getting up” stuff’s hard work.
“I need a break.”