Mrs. G's pup Gus is never allowed to sleep on Mrs. G's bed, what with all the flouncing and French kissing. Gus only settles down and gets some shut-eye in his crate. Not one to play favorites, Mrs. G. would like to share a recent picture of Gus with you, but whenever she brings the camera anywhere near him, he shows his ass. Just trust her -- he's cute, still puppified.
Due to canine seniority, Chewie has free reign of the house at night and Mrs. G. lets him sleep on her bed only if she's not exhausted and in need of uninterrupted sleep, because he periodically snores, groans and yips while bird dogging otherworldly rabbits in his sleep.
But Chewie is a hoper and a dreamer and each night when Mrs. G. is finished brushing her teeth, she walks in her dark room and encounters this:
Chewie undercover, on the sly pretending to be an empty corner in the room. He doesn't move or make a sound.
In case you can't see him above, here is evidence of his presence when Mrs. G. uses the enhance feature on her photo program her night vision goggles.
If Mrs. G. is tired and in a mood, she flips on the light and shoos him out. He stands there like she can't see him for 2 to 3 seconds and then slides out like his whole existence in the room is a complete mystery to him.
If she can't bear to insult his dignity as a secret agent, she flips on the light and pats the bed and he jumps up on it like it's the first time he's ever been invited.
Dog gratitude is so raw and unfeigned.
And just like the stars, he shows up each night.
Under cover of darkness, foward-looking, faithful and eager, his chances always good.