Teen Bea

Beatrice is showing all the lovable signs of being a teenager. I didn't know dogs could glare until the other day when I called her over to lay on the bed next to me and she glared at me. I called her again and she stood up, turned her back toward me, then lied back down with her rear end nearly touching my nose. I now have a greater understanding of the scientific name for dogs of her gender.

A few days prior to that experience, she was out on the deck while Chelsea and I were at work. We recently changed her brand of food. It is called 'Playful'. Well . . . apparently she doesn't want to be playful because that afternoon when I came home, her food bowl was full and was sporting a little poop on top. It takes a lot of thought for a dog to poop on her food inside her food bowl! She was also barking at the maintenance worker who was fixing our A/C. Bea usually likes men (especially maintenance men) who are attractive. Apparently he was not.

More recently, I was on the bed taking a rare, short break, when Bea decided I looked really comfortable. Since the world revolves around her, she did not hesitate to make herself as comfortable as possible and dose off:

I guess I was just supposed to forget all about how she had glared at me and ignored me. Oh well, at least she stopped eating the eyes out of all her toys. Wait . . . none of her toys have eyes anymore.