She is 7 years old. We've had her since she was a puppy. The furniture in our bedroom has been arranged the same way since we moved in: a bed, a nightstand, a dresser, a mirror.
Last night while I was trying to watch the Project Runway reunion show and do yoga (I know, yoga people, I shouldn't watch TV while doing yoga but I consider it multi-tasking and I like it so ... there), but Quincy was barking.
Barking?
This dog rarely barks. At. Anything. She'll bark at a neighbor's cat sometimes, but mostly she doesn't bark.
And what was she barking at last night?
Her own damn reflection in the mirror.
She's sat in front of the mirror a kajillion times over the last 7 years, but last night at 11:20 she decides that other dog in the mirror needed to be told to step off.
'the hell?
4 comments:
yeah, I like Quincy. I really do. But she never struck me as the smartest knife in the drawer, if you know what I mean. No worries, Carmen was no intellectual giant either.
Whenever I need an ego boost, I just have to walk through your door to be greeted by an adoring Quincy. She may not remember her own reflection, but she remembers me! That must mean I'm really important!
Tracee
Emily, yes, we agree that Q is not the brightest bulb ... I mean she eats cat poop.
And Tracee, she does love herself some Flenards. You and Rob are her favorite. But you guys are Mar's favorite too. Oh and we like you a lot as well.
speaking of the "smartest knife in the drawer," i meant for that to read 'sharpest'
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