Sometimes when I come home the Hammer is looking out the window. When she sees me she runs from the window to meet me at the door. I can tell her brain is going, "Beer's home! Beer's home! Go to the door! Go to the door!"
That is love, motherfuckers.
If my dog could get in the car to go pick some beer up and come home safely and I was looking out the window I would do the same thing. "Hammer's home! Hammer's home! Where's the beer? Where's the beer?"
No comments:
Post a Comment