TULLY says . . .
Mom and Dad, the dog sitter, who is also helping us write this blog, says that because you're nine hours ahead of us (which I don't understand) that Diva and I must now post twice a day. It seems like overkill to me, but I don't want to disagree with the hand that feeds me.
It is only 7:30 a.m., and yet I have convinced the sitter to get up before 6:00 to let us out, pooped twice, "taken us home," eaten my Greenie, and posted to our blog. Some people don't accomplish that much in an entire day. I'm on a roll. More to come.
P.M. POST
TULLY says . . .
After my initial morning exuberance, life slowed to its usual rhythm. The dog sitter was out most of the day, leaving Diva and me to relax as we always do when we're home by ourselves. We took advantage of abundant napping spots, drank water, and barked at rain and other unexpected noises. All in all, a good day. How are your sea legs?
DIVA says . . .
I like the dog door open all the time! It's easier when I have to wee. Emmy went to the Wild Wild West Fest in Pueblo. She said Pueblo was sunny and warm and gave her the will to live. I don't know what she meant, but she sure smelled good—like bar-b-que, funnel cakes, ponies, and hay.
But she does something terrible. Emmy pats her hand on the love seat and when I jump up she brushes me! Sure, it's just a few licks, but it's awful. Time to go to bed. Night night, Mom and Dad.
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