If pugs could fly, they'd be smart and I'd be rich

Sophie has invented a new game.
She gets under my two hundred pound leather sofa and starts to wimper because she can't get back out. If I were a patient person, I would wait until she figures that she can get out the same way she got in.
I suspect that would take months.
So I have to lift the couch to let her out.
Is this the curly tail wagging the owner?

Finnigan lost his red ball somewhere -- perhaps under the couch! -- and we went to Pet Valu to get him another one. The clerk shrugged and said they didn't have any.
So we bought him this Kong instead.
He likes to bring it to company after rubbing it with spit and dirt, then drop it on freshly washed and pressed pants.
Subsequently we have lost all of our friends.
Thanks, King Kong.

Gord remains unimpressed with both of them.


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