Puppehs, mostly - if you hate to squeeee, just move along quietly...

Midweek update: no t-shirts have littered the road since those on Friday. Visit to the ladies' room today: no ice scrapers, no snowplows, nor random implements such as melon-ballers or spark plug gap-setters found on the toilet-roll dispensers. (How weird is my life that that is actually news?!?)

Since yesterday's puppeh photos weren't the greatest, I decided that today should provide actual BOUDOIR photos of Mister Fusspot. Er, yes, that's my boudoir. And my bed. And my pillow. Yes, that's where he sleeps - what of it???





Note modesty pose.







Esme loves string. We have to replace the waffle-weave blankies on the aforementioned bed in the aforementioned boudoir quite often, because she likes toothing a string and yanking it out long enough to chew on.








"Nomming. I do it, I'm good at it, y'know, it's not really a hobby, it's more like a lifestyle. I came, I saw, I NOMMED."



In the crook of my arm, a precious Fusspot snoozes, enjoying tummy scritches and puppilicious dreams.




"Yeah, I was giving this blankie what-for... wait, what? Are there Pupperonis? Hook me up! Wait, is that my nylabone?!? GIVE IT!"

My girl, she is sassy.

I have known some incredibly wonderful dogs, but I have never known a sweeter, more good-natured little doggie than Mister Fusspot, and I love him so much my heart nearly bursts at the sight of him.