Okay, enough procrastination. Ian asked me to put a coat of stain on the exposed wood of his porch/sunshade/gazebo?-looking-thing, and I’ve been putting it off. Then when he actually paid me for having done so, I figured I should take the hint and do what I’d promised to do.
I have two modes of getting ready to leave the Lair: “Tobie’s coming with” and “Tobie’s staying here.” I think maybe he’s learning the difference, because he became positively militant in his opinion that I was making the wrong choice.
I figured maybe I was: Maybe he’d stay in the Jeep and be a good boy while I worked…
…and he did, too, for half an hour or 45 minutes. But he has obvious tells, same as me. And when you can hear him doing that Cassius Clay stutter-step of his from halfway across Ian’s front yard, you know he just declared war to the death on one of my belongings. Given that whatever it was was inside the Jeep at the time, it was probably the shotgun seat’s remaining upholstery.
Turns out it was the work gloves from out the driver door pocket, but that didn’t matter. Nothing further would be accomplished until he went home in mild disgrace. Probably for the best – I didn’t get back home myself for another three hours, and that was far too much to ask of a bored puppy.