That’s . . . Better?

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Beds: an acquired skill

The new, appropriately-sized beds came yesterday and, as illustrated, were met with considerably more suspicion and difficulty than I would have expected. Karmann really likes a bolster bed, and so of course I’m the Mummy McNasty because I refuse to keep those fur-trapping hellsacks in my house anymore. I thought the poofy Orvis beds would be a good compromise because the puppies make a puppy divot and then the sides squish up in quasi-bolstery fashion. Yet I can still vacuum them It’s a nest! A puppy nest! What could possibly be better than that?

KARMANN: A bolster bed.

Mrrrmph.

Cal, for his part, initially found a suitable–if sad–workaround, and decided instead to rest on what has heretofore been his naughty step. Generally, if Cal is on the step, you can expect to find some sort of surprise–a trash can raid, or very special puppy nuggets somewhere they certainly aren’t supposed to be.
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Thankfully, they seem to be getting the hang of the newest bed hotness, and things are looking a little less Titanic-y, and ever so slightly more comfortable. Though Karmann, who is the reigning queen of beating bedding into submission, has for some reason refused to figure out that she can beat this bedding, so she isn’t nested so much as plopped in a manner she can abide.

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They both sort of look like they’re falling off the face of Floofy Mountain.

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