Milo really likes the bar.
I think mostly that's because the lowest level of the bar, where most of our liquor bottles reside, is right at eye-level for him. And maybe kinda shiny? I'm not really sure.
All I know is, the other night he grabbed a mini bottle of rum and decided it was a chew-toy. We took it away and assumed that was the end of it.
...Until tonight, when I was distracted from my bowl of chocolate ice cream by the following yelp:
"Milo! Give me back my bitters!"
Dog is clearly a drunk. Heh.
But really, he's so cute. He's huge! Seven pounds, I think, or thereabouts. And really needs a haircut. He also loves his little bed, which, if he isn't sleeping in it, he turns upside-down for fun,
and he gets super-excited whenever we give him new toys. He also has a shiny brass tag that says "Maltese," virtually guaranteeing that anyone who reads it will think either "Wow, what an unusual specimen of the breed!" or "Wow, how stupid are this dog's owners, as it is clearly not a Maltese!" He is very into shoes, which amuses me inasmuch as I always sort of think of dog + shoes = cliche, but Ellie likes my mother's shoes (usually only one of a pair), and Milo has the same thing with mine. Maybe our feet smell more like us than we know?
Still, given his choice? He keeps returning to the bar.
I knew he was the right pup for me.