Bad dog.

Gunnar smiles. Not just with his cute face, but with the full body wag. He not only smiles, but he talks to you when you talk to him. If you look at him and talk - about anything... the Olympics, current tax law, Josey's flute lesson... anything at all... he vocalizes back... it's very entertaining.

The Dog in the Hat.

These are two videos McKenna and Josey made one day last summer... I love watching them... It makes me glad I have such smart, funny kids... and it sure makes me miss summer! (Raise your hand if you are sick of this weather!)

Just desserts.

...continued from yesterday's "Karma."

Folks who fart as frequently and freely as we do really do deserve a gaggle of flatulent animals.

A few years ago, we got Jessie, a Boston Terrier who is the sweetest dog. She is smart and tenacious, and she farts. She doesn't fart a little, she doesn't let go of SBDs*, she farts, audibly, ALL THE TIME. She has the walking farts as she walks out of a room pffffttt, pffffttt, pffffttt, pffffttt. She will fart while she waits for you to throw a ball for her, pbtbtbtbtzzzbtbt (followed by the joyful wagging of her little, callused, stump of a tail). She will fart while she is curled up in the living room sleeping while everyone surrounding her is enjoying a peaceful, quiet evening, thrrrrrrrptptptptptptflpflpflpflpflprrrrrrtttroot. It’s not something we looked for in a pet, but it just happened…and it couldn’t have happened to a more fitting family.

Karma.

Farting is funny. Not funny "ha-ha," but roll on the floor, nearly wet myself FUNNY (and ever since I had kids, wetting myself in laughter has become a lot easier... I've GOT to get back to Kegels... anyway, I digress).

The human condition.

Gunnar is usually in the kitchen to avoid the inevitable game of "grab ass" in the living room which always leads to things getting knocked over. This evening, he was being mellow, so I left the gate open so he could come and go. The gate got closed with him on the living room side. I looked down and saw SAD eyes, as he seemed to try, telepathically, to get me to open the gate. Of course, the minute I let him back into the kitchen, he stuck his head under and longed for the other side.

Deep down, don't we ALL want to be on the other side of the doggy gate?