My pup is ridiculously smart.
Too smart, if you ask me.
I usually pack the same bag whenever I leave for a weekend.
As soon as that green Vera Bradley bag comes out,
Sawyer's inner diva takes center stage.
His favorite game to play while I'm packing?
Knocking my piles of clothing over right before I manage to get them in the bag.
He also likes to try and get in the bag.
The worst part?
Once I give him a little lovin' and shoo him away so I can finish packing,
he starts the
"Fine, Mom. I'll just ignore you and pout in my chair" routine.
He knows this kills me.
See! He won't even look at me.
Sorry for all the Sawyer posts lately.
I suppose it's because I'm starting to realize how much I'm going to miss my lil' fireball
when I move into my dog hater apartment and have to leave him with my 'rents.