Sometimes I think that he believes he's a person because we treat him like one of us.
"Time for bed? Okay, guys, I'm coming", I imagine him saying.
"Oh, we're watching Netflix again? I'll be right there. Make some room, would you?"
"You're going somewhere? I'll be right here. Waiting. Exactly by the door. So you don't mistakenly leave without me. Again."
And since he's from Louisville, I imagine him with a slight twang to his "voice".
Oh, Scout.
I honestly don't know what we did without you. You are spoiled. But you are so cuddly and (seemingly) appreciative of all the love (and bacon) we give you. Completely worth it. I don't know if we'll ever have a girl dog now that we know the rumor of boy dogs being extra-cuddly is true. He still lets me carry him around like a baby. He has many nicknames: Scout-fish, because he always falls into bodies of water; Doodie-head, because Scott is mean; Fluffernutter, because I am mean; and Bud-Bud, because he is Scott's hunting buddy.
Scout turned 6 months old on Saturday. I made him pupcakes. He really is a good dog. Scott is training him to retrieve ducks and, from what I hear, he's getting to be good at it. He even did this thing we'd only read about: found a dead animal and rolled in it to disguise his scent while he was hunting. It's a "Brittany trait", apparently. His natural instincts are kind of over the top and we're convinced his IQ is higher than either of ours.
As I type this, I hear: "Are you ready for bed-bed, bud-bud?" in the background. Nope, he's not spoiled at all.
