Stuck

Generally, Sister is very nice to me.  She always rubs my belly when I offer it to her, she always allows me to sleep on her bed (on cold nights, she's even been known to throw a blanket over me), she's a bit of a messy eater so there is always a chance of food dropping on the floor when she's having a snack, and she has a tendency of forgetting to put her shoes away and everyone knows how much I enjoy chewing on shoes.  Sometimes, however, Sister's Dr. Jekyll is replaced, temporarily, with a Mr. Hyde which is exactly what happened a couple of days ago.

Ma, Pa, Sister, and I were hanging out in the living room watching the baseball game.  It was Ma's turn to massage my neck that evening, so I parked myself at her feet (I literally sat on her feet) and gave her my sad eyes look to signal that she had a job to do (I also made sure to face Sister who was sitting across the room from me--one never knows when she might start eating so one should always keep an eye on her to ensure that any stray crumbs eventually make their way into my, I mean, one's stomach).  Anyway, I was savoring my neck rub when all of a sudden I became aware of a tickle on my chest.  Now I easily could have scratched the itch with my back leg, but to do so would have required me to shift in my spot and run the risk of moving out of range of my neck scratch.  No, I had to come up with another solution.

And I did.

While Ma continued to absentmindedly rub my neck, I put my chin to my chest and discovered that I could reach the itchy spot with what is known in my house as my raspberry picking teeth--my incisors.  So I started gnawing away at the spot, insanely proud of myself for having managed to figure out how to get a neck scratch and take care of that pesky itch all at the same time.  Within a few seconds, the itch was gone.

And that's when everything went bad.  You see, when I went to lift my head from my chest I discovered that I was unable to; my canine tooth was stuck in a drool encrusted curl of fur on my chest.

To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement, but I decided that my best course of action would be to not draw attention to myself and calmly handle the problem on my own.  Sadly, it didn't work like that.  You see, Sister had noticed what happened and, well, let's just say her response was less than helpful.

What was her response you ask?  She started laughing hysterically at me.

So there I was, a devilishly handsome pup with a major problem and a less than sensitive Sister.  Eventually Ma came to my rescue and detached my tooth from my fur.  She also yelled at Sister saying that she was very mean, but I don't think it did any good because Sister was still laughing so hard that she didn't hear a word Ma said.