Kevin stole my kid’s underwear and presented it to the guests.
I was in the kitchen, half-distracted, trying to keep an eye on the oven and stop Leo from feeding toast to the rabbit again.
Kevin was suspiciously quiet. And when Kevin is quiet, it’s either poop or crime.
Then I heard the prance.
That ridiculous, wiggly Frenchie strut.
He trotted into the living room like a parade marshal, tail flying like a flag, proudly holding... something.
It was Leo’s underwear.
Not clean.
Our guests—two polite parents from school—were already seated, sipping wine.
Miso jumped off the window ledge like she’d seen a ghost.
Toast, the rabbit, froze mid-chew.
Kevin dropped the underwear dead center on the rug, sat beside it, and looked at me.
Eyes full of pride.
I stood there blinking, mouthing “why” into the abyss.
This is not the kind of “guard dog” behavior I signed up for.
At this point, I just hope he never finds my bras.
#Pets
#Dogs
