#HarpGoneWild

Like many dog owners, I think my fur baby is one of the sweetest, not to mention cutest. Harper Jameek really is such a good girl. She will follow Mike around the yard off leash, and even if the biggest, juiciest steak were to walk by the house she would stay close to his side. However, even good girls just wanna have fun sometimes. So when the alpha male aka my husband left for a work trip, it was party time for our Harp-doggy-dog. She let loose and did all the things she normally would not in the presence of her dad.

Like this dinnertime scene to the tune of “Stuck on You” because she had a feeling deep down in her soul that this was the area with the highest probability of food droppings; usually she’s obediently lying on her dog bed while we eat:

And this “Movin’ on Up” to the couch side; she finally got a piece of her pie by taking over my spot:

This was honestly not 30 minutes after he left the house for the airport. She wasted no time and went straight for the big guns singing “Rebel Yell” for more, more, more morning snuggles on the bed with mama:

Lastly, I have no tunes for this one. I mean…do you?
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Harper lived on the edge this week. But in all honesty, she is a true Beckett whose definition of wild and crazy is what most do when on their best behavior, maybe taken down a minuscule notch. Like if all the teen girls got their belly button pierced, but you got a washable temporary tattoo that says, “I love my mom.” After the first morning, she never jumped on the bed again. She only got on the couch after the boys and I patted the surface vigorously and encouraged her with, “Come on, Harper!” The dinner scene was repeated and independently exercised because every Beckett prioritizes food. And the last scene was obviously us needing a new hobby besides torturing the dog for our own entertainment.

Truth is she is disappointingly good. We would love her regardless. Yet it is nice to know that when she finds the back gate accidentally ajar, she does not race off to paint the town red and leave us worried for days. Rather, her wild escape has her go to the front door and sit her brown butt down until we randomly look out the window and realize that we don’t have an unexpected UPS package but a ridiculously homebody dog waiting for us to let her back inside. Live it up, Harper. Get that washable temporary tattoo because mommy loves you, too!

 

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