He was dead asleep.
I had to pee.
He gets seperation anxiety.
I was going to put him in his crate. Flashes of him drinking a bowl full of water flashed through my head... he would pee in his crate as soon as he realized he was alone. I didn't want to clean up more puppy accidents today.
The 5 year old in me reasoned that if I took him into the bathroom with me, he wouldn't cry or get scared and, most of all, he wouldn't pee.
I picked him up. Put him down. Dropped my pants and did my business.
And so did he... as he stared at me as if to say "You're a fucking grown up. You know better."
Touché, Monty. Touché!
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