She's a lady...

Okay, eventually I'll quit talking about my dogs (both here and on facebook) and maybe I'll even mention my kids a time or two but believe me, for now the dogs in our life are a lot less complicated! Anyway, I couldn't help but take a few pics and video of that crazy Palin Mae Sassafras of Calhoun County (or Miss Sassy if you nasty) enjoying the rain today. When I decided to get a dog and then subsequently strong-armed Plumberboy into agreeing, I really set my heart on what some folks call an old Southern white, which is basically a fancier term for a yard dog. Well, ask and ye shall receive:

Wow, that's a classy broad. And she's currently about two shades browner than that pic. If you look closely enough at the background, you'll see what was once a fairly aesthetically pleasing garden area with flower-filled window boxes, handpainted pots, and a trumpetvine-covered arbor bordered by a nice wooden picket fence is now a wasteland of potholes and poop littered with the various mangled plastic corpses of whatever she decided to make her chewtoy that day. And yes that's her luxurious down-filled (well, thin synthetic cotton batting) comforters on the ground soaking up the rain. Because she drags them out there. Every. Single. Day. Apparently you can take the dog out of the ghetto but not the ghetto out of the dog. Moral of this story: Be careful what you ask for because you just may get it.

Now onto an update on JJ's situation... he's fine. Plumberboy's wallet is still ailing but JJ is just fine. He's convinced our dogs will live for a looonnnng time and we'll have the vet bills to prove it. It should be noted that JJ's pancreatitis ate into Crabman's birthday party budget so maybe we'll just take JJ to the party this year and let the kids take turns petting him. "Thanks for coming today. Nope, that's it. Just pet the dog and go home, kid. No cake. No ice cream. Just a crazy old black dog with a case of the shakes."

Well, I promise to elaborate more on the other happenings in our lives but right now the details are still fuzzy. I will say that Crabman is reading, like legitimately sounding out words and everything. I find this ironic seeing as we dance on top of books in our house and occasionally use them as a bat, too. Anyway, I guess we'll keep letting him read books so long as they don't go putting no silly ideas in his head. I hate it when that happens.

Of course I could always end by sparking a lively debate about the "stimulus plan" or Pelosi's Congressional Calisthenics but, nah... I think we've had enough of talk of dog poop today.