Stalker

Yes, it's true I have a stalker.  His name is George.  And he truly, truly bugs me as he follows me around the house.  At night as Darren and I relax on the couch he sits 3 feet from us and just stares.  Just out of reach of my foot, not that I would kick him or anything.  Maddening!  I wish that I could speak dog talk with him so I could tell him that I don't like to be followed and stared at all day long.  And I don't like it when he poops in his crate.  Who poops in their bed for crying out loud?!  And it's even more irritating when people tell me that dogs don't do that, they just don't.  It goes against their nature or something.  Yeah right!  Then I have the most special, unique dog in the world.  

But on a positive note, he is very sweet and he kind of listens sometimes.  Drew is very very hooked on that canine.  She worries about him the way that I worry about my kids.  So I will patiently endure him following, me tripping over him from his following, and the occasional poop in the cage.