Miles and the Terrible 2:30s

I love my dog Miles to death, but he’s still a young, 60-pound Jack Russell mix.

Who likes to wake me up in the middle of the night.

In my apartment.

Jack Russell+apartment=never a dull moment.

It is what it is. I’m not one of those people who does the whole “Awwwww I wanna dog! Wait, this dog isn’t perfect? Well I can’t deal, so back to the shelter you go!”

The silver lining of him waking me up in the middle of the night is that I have found this time to be suitable for writing.

After I take him out and feed him, Miles usually just hops back up on the couch while I get a good thumb exercise (God knows it’s not the exercise I NEED, but oh well).

Miles has also developed the habit of knocking his food bowl over every time I refill it.

I used to do the same thing when I was two, so maybe I’ll just start doing with him what my parents did with me and lock him in a closet every time he knocks his bowl over.

I’m only kidding, guys. I didn’t eat on the floor at that age. I’m not an animal.

What I’d really like to do is buy a treadmill for Miles to be able to burn off some of that Jack Russell energy.

Knowing my luck, though, he’d try to stop and go to the bathroom while the treadmill was still running 🤦‍♂️

It wouldn’t be the first time I had to clean up behind him.

But just look at this guy. He’s worth all of the headaches 😊

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