The question has been asked of me "how does one go about expressing either a

Shark's or a Whale's Anal Glands". My answer is, well, I'm not sure.

Probably very carefully, though. In discussing this with my expert anal

gland committee, my Goldens Becky, Earnie, and Peggy Sue-- we were unable to

reach a consensus as to whether or not these creatures *have* anal glands.

So, here's the challenge. Somebody get us Back to Hawaii on a Govt. Grant to

study this. This is exactly the type of thing our Govt. is so willing to

shell out big bucks for. Generous person I am, I'm willing to apply my

"Professor Expresser" expertise for a nominal fee. Perhaps a million or so.

Becky assures me she can fetch a small whale, anything under 50 feet or so.

No problem. The difficulty and danger is going to be when we have that

sucker on the beach on it's back to do the examination. Earnie says he'll

hold it by the throat. I don't have the heart to tell him that whales ain't

got throats, and even if they did, his talents for holding up to 5 tennis

balls in his mouth may not be adequate training for this job. However,

typical male adolescent, he has no doubt he can handle the situation. I hope

so, because I have no idea what to expect when I don the rubber gloves, and

go for it. Will the Whale object--? Or fall in love? Peggy Sue has

volunteered to do clean up, provided the Whale hasn't been eating Anchovies,

which she dislikes intensely. After we've beached a Whale and checked it

out, we move on to Sharks. Once again, Becky says "no sweat; they're just a

stoopid fish" and mostly under 5 ft. anyway. Smaller than many logs she's

fetched me in her time. I reminded her the logs didn't have teeth and an

attitude, she assures me that an Alpha Bitch is an Alpha Bitch, no matter

what species we're dealing with, she'll whip 'em into shape post haste.

Let's get it on!

Becky [Bring 'em on! I'll drag 'em on the beach, Earnie, you hold 'em!]

Earnie [So tell me--just *how big* is this whales throat again?]

Peggy Sue [Whale scat--Shark padookey! Way cool, hey Gemma, eat your heart

out!]

--

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang!!

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach; TD; CGC

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover

of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet A.A.T.D; TD; CGC

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA; TD; CGC

Living in SW Washington State; USA

I wake up thirsty. Probably last nights Chinese food. Myopically I peer at

my wrist-watch. 3 AM. Hmmm. Milk, I need milk. I must make my way to the

kitchen. Sounds easy enough. Oh-so carefully I roll back the covers, so as

not to disturb the Sleeping Dragon. This cheerful, diminutive blonde

life-mate of mine is *not* cheerful when awakened at the wee hours. Next, I

worry about where the dogs are in the dark. Becky is predictable. Always

lays at my side of the bed. I place my foot over the edge, feel for her. I

stretch and slide over her, and make my way out to the end of the bed. Now

it gets dicey. Blonde colored rug, dark room, two blonde dogs--somewhere. I

begin the "Golden Shuffle" across the bedroom. Those of you with multiple

Goldens know this as a combination of the old "Vaudeville Chicken Strut";

and Michael Jackson's "Moonwalk". Slide one foot slowly forward, feel for a

dog, slide the other foot up to the heel of the forward foot. Oops! My big

toe finds a tender portion of Earnies anatomy. He makes a sound resembling a

diesel air-brake, and bolts into Peggy Sue. Peggy Sue freaks out, certain

we're under attack from Nazi forces, and ricochets off my right hip,

throwing my left hip into the corner of the dresser. I open my mouth to

shriek in pain, then remember one must not wake the "Sleeping Dragon".

Slowly I release the air through clenched teeth. Peggy Sue is upset. I

re-assure her, kneel down and hug her, all is forgiven. I arise in the dark

and reach for the door. Someone has moved the bedroom door 3 feet closer to

the center of the room than I remembered in the dark, I stub my little toe

on the doorjamb and bonk my forehead on the door. My cheeks pooch out with

air in another attempt not to scream. The "Moat Monster" still slumbers,

amazingly. I make it out to the hallway. Should be clear sailing from here

on. I fail to see the badly gnawed nyla-bone in the dark. My full weight

descends on it in the form of my left heel. Once again, I suppress a shriek

as I bunny-hop down the hall, muttering epithets to make a Longshoreman

blush. I was doing OK until my right foot found the Giant Kong in the dark.

Down I go, onto my knees. I put my hand out to catch myself, one of Earnies

many tennis balls squirts out from under the side of my palm. I do a

face-plant on the carpet. I am now in a fetal position, face down, butt up,

naked in the living room, in the dark, muttering most if not all of the many

curses I learned in my 23 years on the Waterfront. It occurs to me that CNN

may be filming this, the way my luck is going to this point. I pick myself

up, and make it to the refrigerator. Now it gets sticky. I look out the

window. I listen carefully. All is quiet. I am about to perform a uniquely

male ritual. Drinking directly from the milk carton. My bride places this

right up there on her list with urinating off the deck, picking your nose,

and discussing last nights bowel movement at the In-laws Sunday Brunch. If

caught, she refers to the "Wife's Handbook of 2,347 Ways To Make Hubby

Miserable", and picks a punishment to fit the crime. Again, as the refer

opens and the light shines full upon my naked body, I worry about reporters

outside photographing this. I can see the next days headline: NAKED MAN

DRINKS MILK FROM CARTON ON BERNIE DRIVE. Paranoia. I drink deeply. I then

discover that all the hair on my face is not part of my beard. Apparently

during the face-plant I picked up a dust buffalo or two. I pick the worst of

the hair out of my mouth, and wash the rest down with another gulp of milk.

Yuck. I then make my way through the darkened house, careful to avoid all

the many mine fields laid by the dogs. All is well, until I try to open the

bedroom door to return to the warm cozy bed. Something is blocking the door.

It opens 3 inches or so, no more. My Son, Earnie, has moved his 80 pound

carcass against the door and isn't willing to move. I poke and prod through

the crack. No dice. I whisper "move, dammit"! Nada. I get on my knees, and

put my shoulder to the door--I slide the miscreant out of the way, careful

not to wake "Godzilla" from her slumber. Made it! I do my best Guerilla

Jungle crawl from the foot of the bed back to get under the covers. I lay

awake wondering--just what *does* dog taste like, anyhow?

Earnie [Stoopid CLOD! Kick me in the middle of the night! I'll get even!]

Peggy Sue [Arrrghh! Attack! Attack! Sound the alarm! Oh, it's you, dad.

Sorry.]

Becky [What's all the fuss? I slept like a log!

--

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang!!

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach; TD; CGC

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover

of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet A.A.T.D; TD; CGC

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA; TD; CGC

Living in SW Washington State; USA

Agility class. Earnie is in an Intermediate class. Been traveling, missed

the last 6 weeks or so. Instructor allowed us to join an in-session

class--two weeks left in this series. She warned me Earnie might be more

"advanced" than his classmates. Great. We'll show 'em how it's done. Here we

are--all new people, all new dogs. Earnie the only Golden. The instructor

sets up a "Pinwheel". Series of jumps, set in a circle. Picture 6 jumps, a

clockwise circle, then into a Tunnel, over the Dogwalk, to the Table. Down.

Piece of cake. The other students were reticent--I said "Earnie & I'll go

first"! Earnie aced it. Little powerhouse. Quick, fluid, graceful. Earnie,

not me. I'm a clod. The other students were very impressed. The Instructor

was happy. Nobody else came close. My little chest is all puffed up. Proud

dad. Good dog. Have a weenie. I stand there, smirking. Then, the instructor

announces a new twist. Teeter, Pinwheel, Tunnel, A-frame, Dogwalk, Table.

Down-stay. I'm thinking "no sweat". Right. Reality bites. I put Earnie on a

stay. I walk 25 feet toward the Teeter. I command "Teeter!". He charges

toward the Teeter. He slides to a full stop, front feet on the plank. No

way. Not going over the Teeter. Not going there. Ain't gonna do that. No

way, Jose. When monkeys fly out your butt. I offer dried weenies, put little

trails of them up the plank. I sweet-talk, I twitter, I chirp. I plead.

Nope. He jumps to the side, tries for the weenies. Gad. Embarrassing. Here

he is, *My Son* all 80 pounds of **REAL DAWG** afraid of the Teeter. Same

Teeter he's been over 100 times, too. I hear tittering in the background.

Dang. Earnie 4x4--the highlight of American refrigerator doors, his face on

Magnets, T-Shirts, etc. Afraid of a stupid plank. Ah, reality--! FWIW we

finally got him over it with a regular King's Ransom worth of treats.

Y'know, maybe he's smarter than I give him credit for. I swear he smirked

the rest of that class. Never missed another obstacle, either. Hmmmm.

Becky [I **fly** over the teeter--my problem is those dumb yellow patches my

feet are supposed to touch. Slows me down.]

Peggy Sue [I will **never** be caught on a teeter! Scary! I'll walk a log 20

feet in the air, but the teeter *moves*!]

Earnie [I'll teach you to be an egotistical ass. Who got the treats, dummy?]

--

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang!!

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach; TD; CGC

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover

of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet A.A.T.D; TD; CGC

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA; TD; CGC

Living in SW Washington State; USA

Many of you know that all three of our Goldens have been certified for Pet

Assisted Therapy--a fact we're very proud of, it was a lot of work on our

part. Peggy Sue certified in two programs, one of which gives her the same

rights as any service dog in the state of Oregon. So, we take the Pigger to

the Malls now & then as a training aid. But--Becky & Earnie were certified

through the local Humane Society in Washington. The laws are different here.

Therapy Dogs do not have the same rights as Service dogs. They are not

allowed access to indoor shopping malls, etc. So, being the backward, shy

person that I am, I took the proverbial bull by the horns and called the

offices of the largest Shopping Mall in Vancouver, WA near us. This place is

huge, someone told me if you walk both levels, it's close to 2 miles! First

spoke to Security. Normal Security, they knew nothing. Finally worked up the

Administrative ladder to the Office of Vice President. I explained that we

would like to have the privilege of working the dogs in their mall, for

socialization skills. This person was wonderful! We were granted access, as

long as we had proper I.D. on us and the dogs, and proof of certification.

So, this afternoon, Earnie got his first trip to a shopping mall! He wore

his best green silk scarf for the occasion. We lucked out, there was a big

Easter Bunny thing going on, where people take their kids to have pictures

taken with the Bunny! Earnie is a kid magnet. Plus, he *loves* little kids,

having been raised with our grandkids. He got petted by many, many small

sticky hands, as well as attracting the attentions of many older shoppers,

too! The kicker came when we ran into a very well dressed, attractive woman,

who as it turns out-- is the Vice President of the Mall--and the person I

spoke to the day before! She was very impressed with Earnie, who was on his

best behavior, thankfully. She suggested we bring him to the Mall on Tuesday

mornings, as they have a "Child Day" every week! I am **such** a proud

daddy---! This is such a wonderful training experience for the dog, as well

as for us. Sometimes the squeaky wheel does get greased! Life is good! Last

night, Agility Dog! Today, Mall Rat! I can hardly wait for those Earnie 4x4

T-shirts Paulette Lerman is doing--we'll wear them to the Mall when we train

Earnie! What fun!

Becky [Ho-hum! Yawn. I'm the one doing most of the Nursing Home visits. Big

deal. And hey--when do *I* get to go to the mall?]

Peggy Sue [Been there, done that--big deal.]

Earnie [Way cool! See, there was this 6 foot rabbit, and hunnerts a kids,

and they all wanted to pet me, and I got candy from that one kid, too! I

think this is better than Agility--!]

--

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang!!

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach; TD; CGC

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover

of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet A.A.T.D; TD; CGC

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA; TD; CGC

Living in SW Washington State; USA

Well, we did it! Earnies first *Official* gig as a Pet Therapy Dog for the

local Humane Society, through which he certified. I guess you could say

Earnie played to a "small audience" today. If you like puns. If not, sorry.

Live with it. Wow, talk about your temperament tests! About 40 pre-school

kids, ranging in ages from 1-5 years. We started with the 1-year olds, who

were mostly into petting. One particularly precocious child picked this as

the perfect time to perfect her form with a plastic hammer. Her teacher was

preoccupied with Earnie and the other kids, so she figured she could whack

one of the other kids and get away with it. Might have worked, too, but the

other kid gave a shriek that woke the dead in the cemetery 5 blocks down the

street. Things got better after that! Although Earnie handled the situation

far better than Michael & I did. We then worked through a series of

classrooms, divided by age. The 3-5 year olds were *too much fun*--they were

actually able to absorb our little lessons on how to approach a strange dog,

etc. They were really tickled when I told them that Earnie liked tennis

balls, and I pulled one out of a bag-- seemingly absent-mindedly laid it

near Earnie. Earnie of course, glommed on to it. I went looking for it,

asked if anybody had seen my tennis ball? "Earnie got it"! They cried in

unison. "Oh, well", I said, "I have another one". Yup. Of course, the boy

grabbed that one, too! After he stuffed his face with three balls, to the

tune of much laughter, we did the "balance the ball on the nose" trick,

where he flips the ball off and catches it. At the end of each class, we

passed out pictures of the Earnie 4x4 picture to each child. Earnie was a

hit! Tomorrow, we go to Vancouver Mall, at their suggestion. Tuesday is

"Kid's Day" and Earnie will have another shot at a lot of kids! Probably

over a hundred, tomorrow! He seems to love it! In one of the classrooms, he

turned over on his back and grinned upside down at the kids--pretty cute! We

are having fun with this very exceptional animal! Earnie won't see his 3rd

B-day until July--he's pretty young for all this. Our hope is that a couple

of years of working with kids will slow him to the point of being able to do

Nursing Homes, too, like Becky & Peggy Sue are doing currently. As you can

tell, we're a bit proud of the boy! This is the most fun you can have

legally, I'm sure of it!

Becky [Thursday I do the Nursing home! Oboy!]

Peggy Sue [Me, too!]

Earnie [Hey, Beckers, don't forget we have Agility classes tonight, too!

Let's wear that old buzzard dad to a frazzle tonight!]

--

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang!!

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach; TD; CGC

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover

of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet A.A.T.D; TD; CGC

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA; TD; CGC

Living in SW Washington State; USA

Becky: "Dad, you swore to stay out of this idiotic discussion, so how 'bout

us dogs tell ya how WE feel about it? Settle the mud-wrestling contest once

& for all?"

Dad:" OK, but I'm not going to be responsible for any hard feelings you guys

create. You're not very diplomatic."

Becky: "Fair enough. That said, Earnie--whadda ya think of all this size,

confirmation, weight, etc. discussion?"

Earnie: Well, I sorta admire the Bushey guy. He's got this knack for lifting

his leg, and piddling on the Alpha Bitches on the list. Pretty funny, he

gets 'em every time, suckers 'em right in. Causes a great big erection like

when Mt. St. Helens blew up!"

Peggy Sue: "Hey, Earn--might not be the best choice of words, here. And

don't you mean *eruption*--not erection?"

Earnie: "Whatever. I never claimed to be no brain sturgeon."

Becky : "You mean surgeon, stupid, a sturgeon is a fish."

Earnie : "Get off my back, you bitches. You're just jealous 'cause I'm so

pretty. If you're beautiful, you don't need to be smart."

Becky : "Well, I dunno about that. You know what dad says about "old age and

treachery outdo youth and vigor every time--? Right?"

Earnie: "Ain't it possible dad might not be right all the time?"

Peggy Sue: "Wow, Earnie, you aren't very bright. Dad controls the cookies.

You gotta let him think he knows it all if you want treats."

Becky: "Let's get back on the subject. Peggy Sue, whadda you think of the

Bushey dude?"

Peggy Sue: "Hmmm. Isn't he from 'Bama? Somewhere in the deep South? Maybe

that's a lot of the problem!"

Earnie: Getting ethnic isn't nice! He can't help where he's from! Cool it,

turdlicker!"

Peggy Sue: "What did you call me? At least *I* don't have a Gay tail!"

Earnie: "Oh, right, so now we're into sexual innuendos, eh? You calling me a

"Arfosexual?"

Becky: "Chill, you two! We're trying to solve the big conformation question!

Quit bickering! Or I'll kick your butts!"

Earnie & P.S.--:"Yeah? You think you're tough? Kick this, you red bitch!"

Becky: "Did you just give me the finger? I didn't even think dogs could *do*

that! You have no class!"

Earnie: well, screw you! I'm outa here! You want to solve this problem,

you're on your own!"

Peggy Sue: I second that! This whole discussion is leading nowhere!]

Becky: What was the question, again? I still think we can solve this! Where

did everybody go?"

Becky [It's hard to solve a problem when nobody listens. I know I'm right!]

Peggy Sue [Well, I know I'm right, too! So there! Nyah! And I don't agree

with you!]

Earnie [Oh, Lord it's hard to be humble, when you're perfect in every

wayyyyy [sorry, Willy Nelson]!]

--

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang!!

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach; TD; CGC

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover

of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet A.A.T.D; TD; CGC

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA; TD; CGC

Living in SW Washington State; USA

OK--ran into one of those speedbumps in the highway of marital bliss. Need

help. Those of you who've been on the G&H list longer than 3 years probably

remember the whining, the sniveling, the outright crawling I had to do in

order to get my bride to allow me to bring Earnie home in the first place.

Remember? I offered new cars, jewelry, amazing stuff. I even offered to put

the toilet seat down, for a minimum of two years. No sale. What finally

turned the trick was the offer to rebuild and re-upholster two antique

chairs, precious family heirlooms of hers. Now, you probably also remember

when a young Earnie ate the leg off one of those chairs. Not a pretty scene.

But, as time went on, she grew to love the boy, and he's now a valued family

member. Just like our two Girls.

Now for the speedbump. OK-- you all know about the Earnie shirts. The Earnie

magnets. My *Son* is famous! We have a beautiful watercolor of him, done by

Laura Buxton Check, hanging in the living room. Michael loves that painting.

Says it's "classy"! But--I requested a copy of the "Artwork" [??] that's on

the front of the Earnie T-shirts. Paulette Lerman kindly sent me a hard copy

of it. It's cute. It's real cute! So, I ask her if it's OK to frame it and

hang it on the wall. Not in the living room, even--in my *den* on my *ego*

wall. Minor explosion. "Forget it! I'm not letting you hang another picture

of that dog on the wall!" Hmmm. Did I whine? Yeah. Did I snivel? Yeah. No

way, Jose--not this time. I explained I didn't see why not, she *loves*

Laura's painting. "Yeah, but that's *ART*" she tells me. "I know, sweetie,

it's beautiful, but what's the problem with the T-shirt "art" hanging on the

wall, too"? You know what she had the nerve to tell me? "We spent 8 days in

Paris touring the Art Galleries--didn't you learn *anything*??" What? Whadda

ya mean, "didn't I learn anything"? The next words out of her mouth were: "I

don't care if you wallpaper the damned room with that picture!! I don't

care! Just go ahead and do what you damned well please!!!" I sense some

hostility here--?? Can somebody out there help me understand what I'm up

against here? Women. No wonder I love my dogs. We understand each other.

Becky [I hope she gets off that high horse before my picture comes home--!]

Earnie [There's no such thing as too many Earnie pictures. ]

Peggy Sue [Sigh. The high price of fame. A possible divorce. I wanna live

with mom.]

--

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang!!

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach; TD; CGC

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover

of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet A.A.T.D; TD; CGC

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA; TD; CGC

Living in SW Washington State; USA

X-Comment: ALL messages are Copyright the original author - no redistribution without explicit permission

In keeping with the current silliness on the list, my dogs have graciously

offered a symposium on how to properly and politely debate a given subject.

Today's subject will be on the word "semantics". The scene is as follows:

the "voice in the background" is that of Sigmund Fraud; AKA Scotty,

Professor Expresser, The Anal guy, Junkian Psychology expert and a few other

nicknames picked up or earned that are likely not publishable in this venue.

Of particular offense is the moniker regarding the French Pastries. I wish

to thank the fertile minded G&H lister [read--S***-head!] for using that

term in your missive to me.

The Members of the debate team will be:

Dogtr. Earnie 4 balls, World renowned expert on tennis ball capacity, former

world class Humper, and sometimes closet FRAPer. Dogtr. Earnie has come

dressed in full Dogtoral Robes, replete with Mortarboard balanced delicately

on his head. Through the robes one can glimpse a T-shirt with his picture

upon it carrying what appears to be a full load of tennis balls. Also, and

this is strange, he seems to be carrying 4 tennis balls in his mouth. He

also has advertising stitched into his Dogtoral Robe, something about Free

Therapy, and also an ad for Rolex watches, priced at $29.99. He is wearing

Vaurnet sunglasses, even though it's raining. The dude is cool. The dude is

*down*!

Dogtr. Becky, Alpha Bitch of the Universe, Controller of the FRAPs, Monday

night Agility Queen.

Dogtr. Becky has come dressed for this debate in a stunning pair of Levi

trousers, Doc Marten boots, a Plaid shirt with what appears to be a pack of

Camel cigarettes rolled in the sleeve, a key chain is hanging from a thick

leather belt, as well as a trucker-style wallet, also with chain attached to

the belt. On her head is a Baseball Cap with the Inscription: "Go Ahead,

Make My Day" neatly embossed on it.

Dogtr. Peggy Sue, who will serve as the moderator for this event, is seated

opposite the combatants, er, the debate team members. Dogtr. Piggeur, as she

prefers to be known, is of course a world famous Gourmet, survivalist

expert, and every inch a lady. Her diplomatic skills should be perfect for

this event.

Let the debate begin!

Dogtr. Piggeur: Dogtr. Earnie, would you please address the committee

members on the word "semantics"? Dogtr. Earnie? Are you paying attention?

Would you please face the front and stop that rather embarrassing licking?

If you needed to clean that area, do it off camera?"

Dogtr. Becky: Hey, frog-face, turn around, get your head out of your crotch,

and pay attention, Ok? You're making us look like dolts!"

Note: at this point, Dogtr. Earnie turns slowly toward Dogtr. Becky, makes a

long Phleghmy sound in his throat, and hocks a lunger along with 4 tennis

balls down the front of Dogtr. Becky's plaid shirt. Dogtr. Becky appears

upset.

Dogtr. Becky: CRAP!

Dogtr. Piggeur: Where? Can I have coffee with that?

Dogtr Becky: Dogtr. Earnie, may the record show I am most displeased at your

actions, and at the conclusion of this debate, I plan to kick your blonde

butt into next Friday.

Dogtr. Piggeur: Do I sense some hostility here? Can we please get back to

the original question?

Dogtr. Earnie: Yeah, sure, what was the question again?

Dogtr. Piggeur: We want your take on the word "semantics"; please.

Dogtr Earnie: Yeah, well, personally, I'm against them.

Dogtr. Becky: Does this mean that you're saying you're anti-semantic?

Dogtr. Piggeur: Can we please keep religion and politics out of this?

Dogtr. Earnie: Politics? Religion? What does that have to do with a tribe of

Indians living in the Everglades, for criminy sakes? Hey, I heard they was

gonna drain the swamp. Where will those gators live?

Dogtr. Becky: You Moron! What does semantics have to do with Indians? Big

dumb blond jock, anyway.

Dogtr Earnie: "Yo momma!'

Dogtr. Becky: You leave that bitch out of this!

Dogtr. Piggeur: Hey, let's not quibble, here!

Dogtr. Earnie: Did I hear-- Kibble? Lunch!

Dogtr. Becky: Kibble? Yeah, let's do lunch! We can continue this on a full

stomach.

Dogtr. Piggeur: OK, lunch break. Hey, after lunch we can check the yard for

dessert! We finally agreed on something--!!

Sigmund Fraud: And so it goes. To be continued.

--

Michael & Scotty

The Golden Gang!!

Becky; The Red Scourge of Squirrels, Feline Track Coach; TD; CGC

Peggy Sue; Pixie, Lover

of Every Creature; Fecal Gourmet A.A.T.D; TD; CGC

Earnie; Marriage Test, Woobie Shredder, General PITA; TD; CGC

Living in SW Washington State; USA