I sent Kendra to her room this morning to get dressed (yes, those PJ's and hat were of her choosing) into something warm (she has the sniffles) and brush her teeth. I was waiting (and waiting and waiting) for her to call for help with her toothbrush when I heard the door slam, (never a good sign): "baby girl, what are you doing?" I asked. "Nothin'. Just, I don wanna let Bro (our dog) outta my room." "Why's that?" "He wants to play with me." "You can't keep him in there," I reason. "You have to give him the choice." And THIS is what I saw as I tried to release the captive. . .
Poor Old (deaf and half blind 17 year old) Dog! He lets her get away with anything. . .