Translation: My water is no longer fresh and needs immediate attention.
I sometimes forget about George. He lives in the 1000 square feet downstairs in the newly remodeled family room with the nail sharpening thing we used to call a recliner.
Because he refuses to come upstairs and interact with the big dogs, we are required to visit him twice a day to supply fresh water and top off his mountain of dry food. During one of these visits we must sit down and pet him for no less than 60 minutes or he will berate us with caterwauling on the staircase.
George is a rescue who was saved from euthanasia by the organization we got him from. He only comes out for me and Chris, and he will sit on our laps but does not allow himself to be picked up. To us, he is a real sweetie but we hope he comes upstairs someday. I think he’s waiting for the dogs to die. He is one of only a few people who like the puppy.
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