Now, you all know I love my dogs. I love them more than my husband most days. But sometimes they do something that makes me want to pack their bags and ship them off to their grandparent’s house.

Last night the brown dog, we’ll call her Sadie (mainly because that’s her name), decided it would be fun to bark at the random neighbor who was out at 10:00pm talking on her phone while it was 20 degrees outside. [Side note: I overheard her telling the person she was on the phone with that she should have a safe word–kumquat. I don’t even want to know what that convo was about. Although I strained with all my might to hear what it was about.]  She would not come in for anything. I said the magic words: Bone, grandpa, bedtime, treat, Cheeto…NOTHING worked.


So there my husband and I were at 10:30 (I know that’s not late but for us it’s way past our bedtime) running around the backyard with sticks. Obviously not to hit her with, but she loves to chew on sticks and that was our only strategy to lure her in.  Of course it didn’t work so we just gave up and went in.

Five minutes later we hear a ‘scratch, scratch’ on the back door. After forty-five minutes of chasing her around the backyard she decided she was cold and ready for bed.

We’ve definitely created a brown, furry monster.

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