Last night my mom gave me a bully stick. I love to chew on these things for a while but then I get this weird, almost primal urge to bury them. The problem is I can't dig through a hardwood floor. So I was walking around my apartment, whining and looking for a good place to bury my treat. A few minutes later I heard my mom say, "Where's Stanley?" My humans began searching the apartment for me. They searched in the rooms, in my crate, in the closets, under the bed - I was no where to be found. We don't have a balcony and the front door wasn't open, so I must be in the apartment somewhere.
6 hours ago