Walking schedules are kaput. . . favorite nap spots usurped by odd structures that faintly resemble trees but smell like Tupperware. . . and there are houseguests, whose random comings and goings are simply unacceptable for a herding dog who needs his flock present and accounted at all hours -- day and night.
His Royal Highness is perhaps the biggest game changer for Ben this year. They met briefly in Everett earlier in December, but Ben was too busy being petrified of Kitty Pants, the Number One Son's cat, to take much notice of our little bundle of human joy.
Ben's has had more time to study the the little munchkin this week -- and digest the sudden paradigm shift where he is no longer the rock star of family gatherings.
|Ummm. Excuse me?|
However, Ben's still getting around the fact we all think it's cute HRH pees and poops in his pants.
|Dude. That's what parks are for.|
He also was not above nicking one of His Royal Highness' Christmas presents.
Sorry, little one. This one's staying in The Beav.