When I came downstairs this morning, Phoebe was up and wagging. She’s still not wanting to eat so I’ll pick up some liver and take it home to her.
I was getting ready for work, turned on the water in the walk-in shower, and Holmes streaked past me. He proceeded to shower himself, shaking water all over in the shower, then jumping out onto the bathmat to shake again. He is a baddog in training.
If I just had a kitchen, life would be approaching normal again.