On November first, I welcomed a new family member into my home and her name is Cova.
I was brushing my teeth when I heard a scratching noise. It was coming from my room and growing more and more confident.
The sound levels of chaos grew so—forcing me to spit into the sink and rush to my room, swinging the door open wide.
There, in the center of my crowded bed, was a little dog with big ears and big eyes, staring up at me with the most innocent “what happens to be the problem?” face. She stood among a pile of clean clothes and a wadded up comforter, which she had obviously dug at until the crater in the center suited her.
This didn’t stop me from looking her straight in the eye and yelling, “what are you doing?!”
I believe it was a natural response to, not only an intruder in my bed, but an intruder in my bed who was set on destroying my bed. What I believe was an unnatural response was that I paused and expected an answer.