Enter one pouty-faced dog. He's been down in the dumps for the past couple of days because he destroyed his bed. And let me tell you, he LOVED his bed. It wasn't just any old dog bed. No, it was a Flyers bean bag chair. He appropriated it from Gray, who would happily give that dog of his anything, up to and including a kidney I'm sure.
Now Baker didn't mean to destroy his bed. He just gets himself a bit wound up from time to time. Usually with the help of one human or another. And when he gets fired up, he feels the need to throw his bed. Yes, it's really quite the sight...one squat, corpulent beagle grabbing a bean bag chair more than twice his size and throwing it into the air. But I'm afraid his last go-round with the bed ended in disaster...a large jagged tear issuing forth little white beads throughout the room.
And ever since, Baker has simply been beside himself with grief. He wandered from room to room to room, just testing out spot after spot after spot. Nowhere suited him. What can I say...the dog is obviously spoiled.
So, what does this total pushover here do? Decided to make him a new bed. Why I felt the need to spend my day this way is beyond me. See, Baker, though technically Gray's dog, has made it abundantly clear that he is really Rich's dog. His world revolves around Rich. The rest of us matter to him not one iota. Oh, he likes us well enough, I suppose. Or maybe he just puts up with us because he doesn't know how to get rid of us. Then again, he might just keep me around, as he seems to think of me as his own personal servant...I feed him, give him his medicine, let him out in the middle of the night, etc.
Anyway, back to the bed. This is what I started with this morning:
I've been saving everyone's worn-out and outgrown fleece clothing for the past several years. I told myself that someday I was going to make us a nice cozy quilt using the fabric from them.
By lunchtime I had this:
And finally, by 7:30 this evening, I had one very happy dog testing out his new bed:


