Just A Good 'ol Boy

Since the temperature up here in the land of snow and frozen solid lakes has begun it's gradual decline, Corey and I decided it was time to fire up the trusty hot box.

However, the hot box was not so hot.  It was cold, and it was spewing cold air into our already cold apartment.

After a few choice words and 30 straight minutes of click, fan, click, off, click, fan, click, fan and some other weird noise, click, off, click, click, click, Corey called our landlord.  Who called the heater fixer.  Who said he would be at our place in the early morning.

He wasn't.  And as Corey and I left for work, we were assured he would be there to fix it at some point during the day.

Hey, no problem.  Obviously our landlord trusts the guy to be in his buildings unsupervised.  And we trust our landlord.  Soooo....

....yeah.  We have a dog.  A friendly dog that just happens to be completely unpredictable when meeting new people.

He could:

1. Bark his sweet, golden head off.
2. Wag and pee profusely.
3. Hang out in his "room," until you're gone.
4. Shove his toy in your hand, leg, crotch until you throw it for him.

So, Corey left the guy this note, just in case we ran into a number 1 situation:

We hoped for the best.

And then we came home to confirmation that our boy is not entirely psycho.

Phew.