free goo

Lou doesn't come when he's called. He comes when Jane is called. So this morning, we called Lou and he didn't come. We had slept in a bit (I for the second day in a row, which hasn't happened for a very very long time) and were still in bed, half-asleep. Finally he sauntered in and put his paws up on the mattress, towering over Other. "Hey Lou, what's wrong? You look like you just barfed. Or are going to barf," I said. His mouth was making funny puffing noises, and he was looking at us sideways.

And guess what? I was right! We got him pointed away from humans and their sleeping areas before the critical moment, but didn't get him to any sort of linoleum-ed or tiled surface, unfortunately. And, as Other pointed out, Lou totally would've barfed on him if we hadn't intervened. The dog gets more charming every day.

And finally, I couldn't have said it better myself: