Carl the Cattle Dog behaved himself and stayed in the yard chasing his tennis ball-- until it was time to go in for breakfast. Then he got it in his little canine head to run off into the woods behind the house, which he knows are off limits, in search of squirrels, other dogs to play with, and unicorns for all I know. This, of course, now means that the neighbours all think I'm mad as a March hare because everyone within a half-mile radius must have heard me crashing through the snow-covered underbrush, rotting timber, brambles and then three other people's gardens like some on-foot steeplechaser while shouting commands, oaths and threats at the dog with increasing anger as we pressed further and further into unexplored territory.
If I didn't know better, I'd suspect that this was revenge for making him take a bath yesterday.
After finally catching Carl and hauling him back by the scruff of the neck, he then spent the next hour hiding under the bed before emerging to do some major sucking up to Daddy.
And it is starting to snow again.
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