The little one behind the mountain range is Molly, a 65 pound greyhound.
But he’s still convinced he’s a lapdog. Just this morning he climbed onto the couch and curled up in Mommy’s lap. He’s worried about her. A lot. Hard to explain to him that he’s too big to sit in her lap. If you know how, please let me know.
Hmm, interesting question. My only current idea is that if Mommy had a lap tray, he might have the good sense not to upset it.
Hope Mommy is still getting better.
Still working on communicating this to my big dog. I’ve got nothing for you right now. Meanwhile, my actual lapdog wants to do anything but sit in someone’s lap. Oh well. We also hope Lady Laird is continuing to mend.
I can only imagine this mass coming at me with great speed and enthusiasm! Deerhound = Momentum.
I also wanted to wish you a very happy birthday, Robert. I know it’s been a difficult year in a number of ways, but your communication and mental energy for issues that matter (not to mention Cheeto rationing for the herd) continually make my life better. Don’t party quite as hard as Jagger, but please enjoy yourself!
Ditto. Happy birthday.