But first, my tenant is leaving tomorrow, so please go click on her site (to your right) before she goes.  She's been a wonderful renter - no late-night keggers, no loud music past midnight, and she smells wonderful!  Go bid her adieu by clicking, please.

• • • • • • •

Who says that animals can't feel or show emotion?  Well, whoever 'they' are, they're just dead wrong.  They should have seen Malachi's face today when the lady at the bank forgot to give him his drive-thru treat.   He was sitting on my lap, arms perched on the open window, wagging his tail in a drool-covered pose, waiting patiently for his crunchy bone. 

The tube came - no treat.   He was devastated.  After a frantic search, his ears drooped and he sat, facing away from me, staring out the passenger window until we got home.

I made sure to cuddle him and give his poor wounded ego two treats when we got back.  Not only does he show emotion, he holds grudges.  I imagine next time we go to the bank, he'll kindly flip the teller the bird.

• • • • • • •

This story needs a little background.  If you haven't read my fart story, please go read it now - you'll appreciate this one much more if you do.

Every morning, I wake up and let the babies (Moxie and Bo) outside.  The other two (Malachi and Abbie) sleep with me, so I leave them in the bedroom until they knock on the door to be let out.  Spoiled much?  Why, yes - yes they are.

Today, after my third cup of coffee and my first round of blog-reading, I decided to go check on the sleeping beauties.  I opened the bedroom door and it smelled like I'd stepped in a massive pile of crap.  I knew immediately what it was.  Malachi has epilepsy, and everytime he has a seizure, he takes a dump right then and there.  It's his body's way of telling him it no likey.   So, I find Malachi curled up on the floor, ashamed that he'd pottied in the house.  I cuddle him and tell him it's ok, ashamed I missed protecting him from another seizure.

So I go on the search, careful of where I step, but I can't seem to find any sign of crappage.  Then I realize : he was sleeping in bed when it hit him.   I throw back the covers and there, on my side of the bed, is a perfect pile of doo.  It was laying in the perfect position as if I, myself had crapped the bed.  

I nearly ran from the room to grab my camera so I could blog it.  It was too perfect considering the fart story (and the assumption that I pooped in the bed aftermath).  I went back and forth with the camera, saying to myself both "no one wants to see a pile of poop in my bed" and "my god, this is the funniest thing EVER".   The former won and I didn't take a picture.  Darn it.

If you ever wonder how much I love you all, just know that I was thinking of each and every one of you when I was looking at a pile of crap this morning.

• • • • • • •

Finally, I promised Divine Calm today that I would post some pictures of the beagles.  So, without further delay, here are a few.  Mouse over to find out names.  :)