“Give.”
“Rufffff.”
“Pup, give.”
Instead, Brock bounces back, tail wagging. He bends his arms and ducks down, bounding out of my way.
I rub my forehead. You spend all this time training your pup, and one of these days you know he’s going to outsmart you. And that time came. Pup Brock knows he’s supposed to ‘give’ when you ask, or face a spanking, and 99% of the time, Pup Brock gives. But Brock also discovered the game of keep-away, and learned that if it’s a game, he doesn’t get punished. Fuck me right?
“Puppy!”
But he’s gone, in the other room, lead still clenched in his teeth. That lead is supposed to be in your hand. You take off your jacket. The only way to get it back is to wrestle it from him. Pup wants to play? Pup has no idea who he’s going up against.
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Captions are fictional.