Comfort

Max is a sneaky little blanket thief. Throughout this past winter, I documented every case I could of his diabolical plans to horde all the blankets in the house. Then, I looked back over the past 5 years to see just how bad it has always been. Here is what I found.

It started way back, when I was much nicer and let Max on the couch, when I didn’t realize just how much he was taking advantage of that bougie life.

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“If comfort is an art, call me Claws Maxet. For I will certainly leave my impression in this landscape.”

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“A little privacy please. Jeez dad.”

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“Heads…

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…Or tails. Either way you toss it is a win for me.”

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“Don’t hate. If it works, it works. And this right here works.”

Then, I realized his behavior was bleeding over to sleepovers with his friends, and with blankets that were probably not his.

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“Hey, I let him have the bones so I could have the blanket! Ok, now I want the bones too.”

Then, we got a new resident at our house, who also was partial to blankets. That shook things up, but not for too long.

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“What’s this baby doing on this blanket!?”

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“Ok, ok, I will share…for now…”

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“Ha ha ha. Victory is mine. I am still king of blankets!”

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“And now I extend my reign. You leave dirty clothes and towels on the floor? They are now my blankets.”

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“This pillow will make a fine addition to my blanket collection.”

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“I know…It’s not a blanket, but I claim it. It is flat and soft and close enough.”

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“Leg is the new blanket.”

What can I say? This dog likes blankets. And that doesn’t even count the one I specifically laid out for him in our bedroom that he now uses almost every night, or many others of which I did not get a picture.

Thank you Max for enjoying the comforts of life and for reminding me of the value of a good, trusty blanket.

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