It’s late at night. The “puppies” are in their own beds. Kitten is off causing trouble somewhere, probably harassing Damien. Willis is lightly snoring by our heads. The house is quiet and I’m drifting off to sleep.
Thbbbbbbbbbbppppppt!
Yup. Into every peaceful night a little dog butt must pass. Gas.
Having dogs is a lot like having a husband, actually. At least Hubbles doesn’t try to hump my leg bark at my mom when she comes to visit and rings the doorbell.
