Boston lamb chop.

I closed a closet door on my thumb Sunday night. As I said “motherfucker” 10 times over, Earnest followed me closely as I paced back and forth trying to determine if shaking my hand out or shoving it between my thighs while hunched over was more effective in lessening the pain. As it turns out, burning your 9 other fingers will definitely take your mind off your half broken thumb. Jk, I only burnt 2 of them, and it’s slight enough that I can’t even remember which fingers were maimed in the act of trying to cook dinner.

I honestly have no idea where that story was going.

But I can feel big things happening.

I am training Earnest to be out of the crate without destroying the entire apartment. So far the only thing he’s done is flung the pillow he sleeps on off of the couch. This is not too shabz considering the last time he was left out of the crate unattended for more than 15 minutes he tore a $20 bill to shreds. I left him for 5 hours Sunday night and I came home to him sleeping on the couch, when he saw me standing over him he was overcome with guilt and put his ears back in a way that makes him look like a baby lamb. A dog that looks like a lamb, you don’t say!

I am. Not. Lying.

Look:
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That’s a baby lamb looking dog and a baby lamb.

Also, he can pull off the sloth look effectively.

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Ignore my double chin. This post is about the dog, not about upward camera shots!

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