Tired boy

Finley is starting to jump on and in to things - couches, chairs, baskets. . . not quite beds yet, but I'm sure that's next. When we lost our sweet girl Annie last summer, I vowed that if we got another dog, they would not be furniture dogs. Annie would find the highest place in a room and pearch herself there and of course, Wrigley would follow. They did a number on the furntiure, leaving behind sand, dirt, saltwater - remnints from wherever they had been that day.

So, as comfy as Finley was, sound asleep on the couch, I picked him up and put him in his bed for the rest of his nap. Sorry Finny!