Underdog

The dogs' favorite things to eat are: toilet paper, paper towels, and the cardboard holders for those. Tonight, we finished eating dinner and Barkley was trying to get to the paper towel on Scott's tray table. A mere two feet away, the paper towel was yelling "Your muthaaaaahhh!" from atop its safe perch. Barkley was straining at the edge of the sofa, whining.

I turned to pick him up just as he launched himself at the tray table. I mean, he threw himself into the air for all he was worth, paws outstretched and head down, like he really thought he could fly.

The tray table went flying - glass, paper towel, and magazine hit the floor, and so did Barkley. I covered my face with my hands. Scott leapt to pick up the glass before it all spilled out while I collapsed, laughing. He grabbed Barkley and put him in his kennel for a time-out, while I tried to get myself under control.

"If you do that in front of our child, I am going to be so pissed off at you!" he exclaimed as he latched the kennel door and tried to keep from stumbling over Scrabble, who was confused and excited by the spectacle.
"He really thought he had it! I mean, that was some ambition!" I snorted from the couch.
"It was so bad!" he stomped back into the room, Scrabble scrambling in close behind him.
"Honey, he's a dog. You have to admire his determination!"