Much like when my kids were toddlers, Charlie follows me around like a Bon Jovi groupie. He even ends up in bed with me every night, always quickly securing his spot so that if I turn over to give Erik a smooch, all I get is a face full of dog ass.
The only time I'm without a shadow the shape of a poodle, is when I go to the basement. The steps are short, steep and very slippery, and he's about as graceful as a moose doing a swan dive. In fact, the last time he attempted them he ended up tumbling, then belly-surfing the last few steps, landing just shy of the wall at the bottom. So every time I turn the corner to head up the stairs, this is what I see...
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