I have a sneaking (no, full fledged) suspicion that Pasha-Pup, in her new fitness regimen with that boy I live with, has pulled a muscle. Or she’s an excellent faker. Or perhaps she’s just suffering from a bout of Why-Hasn’t-Spring-Arrived-Yet-Depression. Regardless, she’s going through a phase where many things are just too much trouble for her. She’s not interested in walking up stairs, or jumping on beds, or lounging on hard surfaces. She chooses to stand mournfully in front of the obstacles in her way and cry pitifully until one of us finds her, picks her up, and relocates her. Last night, she refused to join us in bed and once we settled her, she decided to lounge horizontally and yelped when I tried to stretch my legs. She’s not in the mood for things to not go her way.
So if you need us, we’ll be camped out on the couch, waiting it all out.