About the dogs...

Okay, I know that the dog thing in the last post was silly. You'd have to know Momo (aka "Frecklebelly") for it to make sense. He's an imperious little dog with a split personality, alternatingly kissing your ass with the most adorable noises and facial expressions, and then growling and muttering through curled lips, threatening to call in the ASPCA because you didn't put the right amount of Blue Cheese Salad dressing on his kibble. He won't eat the kibble without the salad dressing, you see. He's a little priss.

Boss is a sweet good ol' boy, a rescued beagle from Georgia. In March he was scrawny and sick. Now he's fat as an overstuffed sausage, partly from eating the kibble that Momo turns his nose up if I haven't prepared it properly. Boss came to me from my old job-from-hell, where he lived in the Alzheimer's unit. He got confused and peed on the floor there. (Just twice, but it got him fired.) He was confused because some of the residents were were doing the same thing. That's also where he started getting fat. Nobody there could remember if he'd already been fed. He ran with that like the puppy in the toilet paper commercial.

Enough about dogs now. I just wanted to explain. My roommate apparently was the only one who thought any of it was the least bit funny.

Should you have wondered, yes, I do keep a drawer full of sugar free strawberry Red Vines for moments of angst. They seem to do the trick.

Actually, I used to keep them for Casey. They were her favorite treat. When she died, I started eating them myself.

Enough about dogs, already, Cupcake.

Okay.

This weekend...have to see a play, have to pack some boxes. Hope to avoid the inevitable Al Quaeda meeting that will be held in my basement. Have a little present shopping to do. Have to back Seven-Layer Bars because the oven at the cafe is broken and there aren't enough pastries to sell. Every now and then I make Seven Layer Bars because Leila, who owns the cafe, only makes yuppie stuff like croissant, scones and madelines, and damn it, the people want junk. Sometimes I'll be sitting there struggling over Su Doku or my novel, people will come in and look at the pastries and say, sadly, "Isn't there anything chocolate?"

It was under duress that Leila, the owner, started making a few chocolate croissant. She's not big into sweets.

The Seven-Layer bars are nothing but sweet, and they sell flatteringly well. And the cute barrista-boys eat them, too.

It snowed last night. I wish I was in Vermont.

Have a great Friday everybody.