“WHO MARKED MY LAUNDRY?” And Other Perks of Belonging to a Labrador.

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Gentle Reader,

In what can only be termed as a January miracle (because there certainly weren’t any happening in Miami the other night, hm?  ROLL TIDE, ROLL…) Cody came back from The Ranch to visit with his brother for the week.  As in previous experiences, this is a LOT of dog in The World’s Smallest Apartment.  Mama and Daddy let him come visit because he is absolutely nutty (like, nuttier than usual) right now, erm, they are having a ranch full of guests this weekend.  The Boys, understandably, are excited.  Life is ALWAYS better with brudder.

Yesterday was uneventful because I didn’t have to go out anywhere-worked from home.  Except that I had sorted my laundry (how do one human and two dogs generate seven loads of laundry in one week?) at the foot of my bed.  When I walked in at bedtime I detected a distinct aroma in the air.  You know the one.  And sure enough, my whites were a bit dampish and also a bit yellow in certain places.  I have my suspicions, but he’s very sweet and a guest here so I think I’ll go easy on him.

Today, I returned home after a long day to find Cody standing on the coffee table, wagging (so apparently the ENTIRE APARTMENT is now his jungle gym) and at some point during the day, somebody managed to turn on the television.  Again, I don’t know who specifically, but I have my suspicions.  I do have to worry about two almost-seven year old male Labradors choosing to watch a “Frasier” marathon, but we’ve established that these aren’t the most manliest of Labs anyway.

After the initial period of adoration that happens whenever I walk back in the door (no, really…it’s really great for the self esteem…just leave a Lab for fifteen seconds…walk back in, and have your genius reaffirmed) we went outside, where both beasties tried to convince me that “No, thanks, we’ll just hold it.”  (It’s raining and miserable here.)  At which point I learned that dragging 160 pounds of Labrador out into the rain by the collar looks much easier on television than in real life.  And then I fed them, and sat down to do a little bit more work.

And then The Sir decided I was done working for the day and demonstrated this by incessantly nosing me in the elbow.  And The Code just began jumping up and down.   Just…jumping.  Not aimed at any one or any thing, just jumping.  For like 5 minutes.  For the first time in his life, a tennis ball would not sway him.  The Code needed to jump.  The boy ain’t right.  Just ain’t right.

At any rate, Benadryl has been dispensed (to all of us) (I took mine with some delicious club soda, The Boys got theirs in a cheese sandwich.  Which?  Totally fair.  Grrr.) and we’ve all had a good chew (well, two of us have, one of us had a good glass of vino) and we appear to be settling down.

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God’s Mercies are Tender, indeed.

And now, I’m going to bed before I lose my security deposit.

Goodnight,

Wordie

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