Rain, Rain, Go Away--So I Can Kick Sam Outside Again

It's been raining pretty steadily the past couple of days, so Sam hasn't had the chance to get into much trouble outside. Once the sunshine returns, I will have a few fun posts for you: namely, Sam playing on our porch swing and Sam "talking" to us. I'll also have a surprise for the 4th of July tomorrow. But for now, here's a bit of a recap of the trouble Sam's been making indoors.

Despite knowing the "wait" command and knowing he's not supposed to leave the kitchen unattended, Sam routinely bounds off into the rest of the house without permission. I'm working on curbing this bolting behavior by making him wait at the doorway to the living room every time, even when he's allowed back into my room with me. However, the following incidents occurred before this new ordinance was enacted.

I let Sam inside because it was raining, thinking he could sit in the kitchen with me while I ate lunch. Nope. Before I knew it he'd run off into the living room and grabbed his towel off Dad's ottoman. (Sam's towel is a beach towel Dad makes me spread out on the floor that Sam has to stay on while in the living room, otherwise Dad kicks him back into the kitchen. Obviously I let Sam into the house without this towel when Dad's not here, but what Dad doesn't know won't hurt him. Shhh.)

Gotcha!

I followed him and told him to leave it, which he did--or at least tried to. Usually when I yell at Sam to leave something he's interested in, he simply lies down on or near it and puts his head down and looks at me with these big innocent eyes, all while continuing to chew out of the side of his mouth. Like I can't see his little jowls moving. Please, Sam. I've got 22 years on you and 14 years of raising crazier Labs than you. I know your tricks.

I'm a perfectly law-abiding dogger (gnaw gnaw gnaw)

I got him to actually leave the towel alone and took him into my room with me, since usually he'll lay on the bed while I work at my desk and not be a problem. Of course, that day happened to be laundry day, so I had all my laundry sorted out in piles on the floor. Big mistake. Sam is a clothes-stealer extraordinnaire, and no sooner had I sat down at my desk than he absconded with a pair of my shorts.

About to bolt out the door with his laundry selection

I ran after him back into the living room, where he tried to make a stand. He shook my shorts back and forth and stuck his little wiggly butt up in the air, trying to bait me into playing with him, but I knew his Lab tricks. No dice, kiddo.

Let's play!

I got hold of the shorts, then held them still and told him to leave it very sternly. He mouthed them a few times, realized I wasn't going to pull back, and reluctantly surrendered them. As I held them out of his reach, he stared at them as though trying to will them back into his clutches, but to no avail.

Those are the shorts you want to give me. (waves paw) You want to give me those shorts.

Needless to say, Sam got thrown outside after that. I opened the garage door about two feet so he could stay in from the rain, though. Shorts thievery doesn't quite warrant being locked out in the rain, after all. Or at least, not that particular pair of shorts.