Triple-walled dog house

That's where I live. Lately.

I admit. I've been bad. But it isn't really my fault.

First, my Person foolishly left the grocery bag up on the table where I am not suppose to go and I sort of got inside and pulled a quart container pack of organic chicken broth out from under a giant heavy winter squash and carried it into the living room and ripped it open and slurped up most of it except for a little puddle by the bookcase I forgot about until it was too late.

Second, my Person foolishly left a sealed box of bird seed by the back door that I happened to pull open and dump upside down and sample a good deal of before she surprised me by coming in that very back door without knocking first.

Third, I ate a pan of almond bars that my Person made for her Friend and left to cool on top of the stove. She didn't even yell at me or call me a bad dog after that one. She just gave me a steely look and said "You know what kind of dog you are," and I cowered and shrank and glued my ears to the back of my head and gave a gulp and unfortunately I also burped. She ignore me then and strode out of the room to lie down on the couch and read. And that was very bad because I had hidden some of the almond bars under the couch throw. And then she went to bed to read and that was very bad too because I had hidden some more almond bars under the blankets. "What are you?" she roared. "A grizzly bear making food caches?" Then she laughed but it was a grim sort of laugh and I found some other place that wasn't the couch or the bed to sleep that night.