Tempest in our Tea Pot

So as to prevent furnishings from becoming dental floss my rambunctious canine is kept in the relative luxury of a secured bedroom most of our work, school day. For the most part he takes leisurely naps, lounges listlessly head on pillow not rustling until we return home, a schedule he seems to have committed to memory. Should one enter the home outside of routine Duke paws upon the inside of the door aggressively, adding a low growl for dramatic emphasis in stark contrast to his otherwise affable demeanor. Once free his incarceration the black behometh bounds erratically through our den, tail cutting broad swaths of knick knackery from table tops, haunches moving in several directions all at once as his head is thrust into your loins just for good measure adding injury, though not insult, tis amorous intent. His olfactory having confirmed our identities this tempest in our teapot of a cottage finally settles into a modest semblance of sanity, kinda. Samuel having pirouetted past to his room Henry is left to Rumba with our boisterous beast, bobbing and weaving exasperatedly on his way to the kitchen. Retrieving a treat from the pantry he turns to his canine counterpart whom still twists about as though a cheap watch..."this is why I am a cat man".