This is the face of a dog who does not know what his eldritch horror of an owner will do next, but wouldn’t say no to a good ear-rub.
…we left the Asshole Crow Condo out.
Despite my daughter (PRINCESS) anxiously inquiring whether or not a raccoon might move on in.
Attached please find Jerry’s proof of life, taken before dusk but after the CORPSE-FENCE INCIDENT. (Jerry could reach the top of the table but was unable to properly fly.)
LOOK WHAT MY DAUGHTER BROUGHT HOME FOR ME.
I am on my last nerve and a lot of coffee this morning, so fair warning: Don’t fucking test me on this one.
(This warning brought to you by Not All Men But Definitely That Fucking Guy.)
The post-sluice romp has begun. House reeks of even more wet dog. Towels are everywhere.
Which reminds me of my very favorite LJ icon ever.
Black sheep of the von Schtupp clan. I write books. A crow for a fetch, I'm your huckleberry.
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