Why does she laugh...

Do all puppy mommas laugh at their puppies?  Myrtle does.  All the time.

Tell me, what is so humorous about my using the stepping stones?  I mean, stones placed in the ground equal distance along a directional path are certainly meant to be stepped upon, right?  That's what I do.  I use the stepping stones to make my way to the yards on either side of the garage.  Of course, being a might small fellow, I have to sort of hop from stone to stone, but hopping is a form of stepping, right?  Where's the humor in that?

And what is so funny about using a stealth approach when aiming to remove a prohibited-to-Amos item left lying on the table next to the couch?  If Myrtle really did not want for me to have it, she would not leave it in such easy reach.  Because I love her and I know that any reminder of her diminishing cognitive function, like leaving a dinner napkin behind as she clears her dishes, distresses Myrtle, I make every attempt possible to keep from pointing out her error. What is so funny about that?

And carrying around babies in my mouth.  How in the world could that draw laughter?  A fellow should always have a baby close at hand, and surely Myrtle knows I need my hands to walk.  So it is natural that I would carry about babies in my mouth when traveling from room to room, from floor to floor, inside and out.  Again, where's the funny in that?

I could go on and on and on.  Myrtle laughs when I snore (waking me up), when my meal takes but 37-seconds to consume, when I toss the ball for myself, when I check on her while she is taking a shower, when I work on a chew toy in her lap, when I perch across her hip while she is lying on her side in bed reading a book, when I sneak down to the basement for a visit behind the dryer (it smells so very good back there), when I fall asleep in her arms after a bath on the way from the basement sink to the couch, when I tuck my all my babies, balls, and chew toys into bed for safe keeping, when I curl up on the back of the couch and rest my head upon her shoulder for a nap, when I try to sneak a tasty clod of dirt past her after tending to business in the out of doors, when I take a flying leap from the lower sidewalk to the upper sidewalk in the back yard to bypass the two steps connecting them, when I stand on my back legs to check out what might be in the bathroom sink, when I slip one of her sleeping-eye-covers-thingys out of the laundry basket, when I try to figure out a way to hold a couple of babies and a ball in my mouth at the same time, when I climb up on her shoulders for a ride, when I leap up in the air for someone to catch me (sometimes I must do so six or seven times before the visitor understands that he or she is supposed to hold me), when I chase Fearsome Beast out of the yard, when I wag my tail at Neighbor Dog and give her kisses through the fence, when I am warning people who are walking on the sidewalk that I am guarding the premises, when I fall asleep holding Flower Baby at night...the list is endless.

Why does Myrtle laugh at me?


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!