An older model vacuum cleaner roars over the carpet. It thrusts back and forth, becoming louder with each push. “This is ridiculous.” The vacuum cleaner thunders around a corner, inhaling crumbs and dust off the floor. “Does he think this is funny? Because I don’t. I’m sick of it.” An adorable scruffy dog with awkwardly long legs lies tensely across the living room, fuming at the hideous machine.

The noise tears through the house like a jet engine. “Doesn’t he know that’s like torture to me?” The Dog’s ears twitch. He looks bitterly at his master. “I’d rather hang out with the mailman or…take a bath. But this? This is the worst. Worse then when he pretends to throw the ball but doesn’t really throw it.” The vacuum screams through the hallway, taunting The Dog to his wit’s end. “Alright, that’s it. I’ve had enough.”

The Master goes about his Sunday cleaning, whistling his favorite tune, blissfully unaware of The Dog’s contempt. “Just have to wait for the right moment…” The Master approaches the front door. The Dog flinches, ready to spring into action. But The Master was just walking by. The Master meanders the house, dusting and cleaning. “…patience…” The Master approaches the front door once more. The Dog tenses with anticipation, licking his lips, only to be let down again. “Come on, come on…” The Master gathers his coat and keys.”Oh god, this is it. Ok. Stay calm, stay calm.” The Master finally leaves the house.

“Woo!” The Dog springs into action. Furiously sniffing, he bounds through the hallway looking for the perfect spot. His paws trample the freshly vacuumed carpet as he scours the floor. He cautiously peeks around the corner of the bedroom and glances around to make sure he is truly alone. His big, clumsy head slowly disappears back around the corner.

He then leaps into the bedroom landing in a playful pounce position. He bolts around the room. His tail is like some goofy version of a shark’s dorsal fin as he searches behind the bed. He awkwardly slides into the kitchen and examines the tile floor. “No, no. Too easy.” He sticks his nose into one of The Master’s pair of shoes. “Eh, too noticeable.” The Dog returns to the living room where he prances past an expensive looking guitar. He slowly walks backwards to the guitar and looks at it. “…too mean.” He spots the couch. “Perfect.”

He hops onto the couch and walks in a few circles. “Vacuum this, asshole.” The Dog lifts his leg and douses the couch with a golden shower. He pants with the ultimate relief, making sure to squeeze out every last drop of his finest work. Just then, the jangling of keys can be heard outside. The Dog whips his head around, still relieving himself, to look at the front door. “Uh oh.”

In a panic, he pulls a nearby decorative pillow over the soaking couch cushion, jumps to the floor, and lies down just as he was when The Master left. The Master walks in. “Why is he back so soon? Did he forget something?” The Dog lies obediently across the room. Without moving his head, he cautiously glances up. The Master walks past the couch, pats The Dog on the head, and is greeted with a polite lick. “That’s it… nothing to see here… just a good dog.” As The Master puts his things away, The Dog watches him sharply. Suddenly, The Dog catches a scent. “Oh no. The smell. Why didn’t I think of the smell?”

The Master hangs up his coat and takes off his shoes. “Surely he must smell it. He knows. He knows and he’s letting me sit here and wallow in regret.” The Dog stares desperately at the couch. He moans inwardly, “Why did I make it so obvious? Why didn’t I just do it on the tile? Why did I have to be so bold? He’s gonna disown me, hit me with the newspaper, he’ll put me down…or worse…obedience school.”

The Dog barks dramatically and jumps up onto the couch. “OK! I did it! It was me all along, look!” He tears the pillow away, revealing what he has done. The Dog bounds back to The Master, tail between his legs. The Master notices the stain on the couch, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head with a smile. “I’m sorry, please forgive me, I’m sorry! You can vacuum the house every day, I don’t care! Just take me back.” The Master hugs The Dog, giving him a reassuring scratch behind the ears. It’s going to be ok. The Dog is happy as can be back in The Master’s forgiving arms. He pants, almost smiling with content.

“I wonder when I should tell him about the dump I took on the bed.”

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