Who’s Letting The Dog Out?

So, I was sitting at my desk the other evening, all nice and comfy-like when my dog, Rocko, came over and sat at my feet. He looked up at me expectantly.

Me: “Why me?” I bemoaned. “Why do you always come to me. …Ask him.”
{I pointed to my husband, Bob}
Bob: “No.”
Me: “Yes.”
Bob: “No.”
Me: “I made dinner.”
Bob: “I’m writing a response to your post.”
Me: “I washed your clothes today.”
Bob: “I rock your world.”
Me: “And I rock yours …Touché.”

Bob let the dog out.

{grins}

#18. If you drink, don’t park; accidents cause people.