Random Musings about Dogs, Writing and Other Things

Tomorrow is Wednesday and after that, we begin the downhill slide towards the weekend. Sometimes I regret looking ahead like that. After all, life is pretty short and not appreciating the now in favour of the more free future is not a good thing really.

Still, we can't really help it, can we? Having to work is necessary but sometimes it's hard. I run home for lunch every day to let the puppies out and having to re-crate them for the afternoon is hard. I always joke that they get to go in their crate and I have to go back to mine. I do sometimes wonder if anyone would notice if I stowed the puppies under my desk but, alas, I think with their high pitched yips and penchant for chewing, they might be quite noticeable. I still dream of one day being able to stay home and be a full time writer but with one book out on the market, I'm pretty certain that my dream is a long way off. Besides, I didn't publish The Reluctant Demon for money, I published it to get people to read it. So far, everyone I know has enjoyed it although, sadly, many of them like to point out that I needed an editor. Unfortunately, due to a mix up with files, Amazon was sending out my unedited version for a while and because I have some very loyal friends who bought my book right away, they have the 'collector's edition'.

It's nice to feel like a really writer though. It's nice to be able to answer people's "what have you published?" with a real response. It doesn't mean I'm giving up submitting in other areas but it's a teeny-tiny triumph of my own.

Still, I think being a fully time writer is pretty impossible at the moment anyway. Sookie and Rory see to that. Even when I have my weekends free, I don't get too much chance to write because I need to make sure they're behaving every so often- particularly when they get really quiet. Take now, for example...there's silence from the living room which sometimes means...trouble.

It seems I had no need to worry. I poked my head out only to discover Rory was upside down in their toy box, trying to grab a chewstick while Sookie is sitting on the floor, literally surrounded by at least five toys. Now there's the unmistakeable squeak of their unstuffed ferret-thing that they love to fight over. I've discovered that the long toys are the best- that way they can each grab an end and have a tug-o-war. It's infinitely better than them spotting my trouser leg and trying to have a tug-o-war with that.

One thing's for sure- they keep me entertained. They also confirmed that they are, in fact, the cutest dogs in the neighbourhood. Tonight we met Debbie who lives around the corner and has four dogs and Larry. He lives on the corner of the street behind mine. His parents have some type of hypoallergenic dog but he likes all dogs. He also likes to garden. I learn quite a lot about my neighbours. I'm not sure, exactly, what type of hypoallergenic dog his parents have but I hope it's not one of these . I think they're called Chinese Crested dogs. I know that some people find them adorable but, frankly, they give me the creeps. They're completely bald and I know I sound judgmental but, well, some people don't like spiders...I don't really like bald dogs.

Anyway, I'm rambling- I've been doing that a lot in my blog. I hope you're not getting too sick of hearing about Sookie and Rory. My problem is that I don't get much human company at the moment, unless you count my coworkers and, well, sometimes I do...sometimes I don't. Not some of my coworkers, anyway.

Speaking of which, my boss told me he ordered my book. I'm only slightly concerned about that. Ok, so my heroine does work for a software company....like me. She does the same sort of job as me...and she's horribly bored...like me. But...I don't speak badly about my boss. Ok, so I do compare one of the managers in the book to Voldemort and we do actually have a manager who I've always called Voldemort but that's not bad...right? It's not like I've completely copied my life...just...aspects.

Either way, he's going to learn a lot more about me than he would, most likely, by perching awkwardly on my desk and trying to make small talk. If he doesn't like it...well, at least he bought a copy.

Oh dear...I'm hearing a concerned yip from the living room. Rory is quite loudly letting me know I've ignored them long enough. She's taken to barking when she's being ignored. Mostly I ignore her but, on occasion, she's rather persistant...like now.

It's probably time to wind down the blog anyway. Thanks, as always for reading.

Happy Wednesday!

The Power of the Puppy....

It was a definite Monday today. It started early for me. Despite the fact that the puppies managed to sleep through a night last week without waking me up to take them outside, they haven't quite made it a routine yet. Thus, I woke up this morning at 5:05 a.m. with Rory Wrigglebottom (her official name now), edging closer to me. Rory has this routine, you see. When she needs to go the bathroom, she begins her wriggling (hence her name). During the time when she realizes she needs to go, she wriggles her way across my bed until she is sitting with her front paws on my face. I am convinced that if it were daylight at 5:05 a.m., Rory Wrigglebottom would be staring at me, her eyes only inches from mine.

However, I cannot deny the pups the need to go to the bathroom. After all, I'd rather they woke me up than go in the bed. I just wish it was a little earlier. My alarm is supposed to go off at 6:03 a.m.- I tend to believe in arbitrary alarm-setting rather than in linear five-minute increments- so a 5:05 a.m. wake-up wriggle is too late to conceivably go back to bed and get any decent sleep and too early to stay up and try to get through the workday and stay coherant.

Still, we managed and I did snatch at least another 30 minutes of sleep. The day was a Monday- quiet and slightly hectic but not enough to render it truly busy.

As always, I came home on a Monday night yawning and thinking a nap sounded nice. Instead of a nap, however, I decided to take the puppies for a walk. They had their first vet visit with me on Friday and are now immunized so that I can take them for walks. I've done it twice now and while they're getting the hang of the leashes, they're not what I'd call....good walkers.

They are, however, adorable. They have matching pink harnesses and when they walk, I have to admit, they are just so cute, I'm proud to be their mum. I, apparently, am not the only one to think so. No sooner did we get off our front lawn onto the pavement when my next door neighbours- the non-Dog Whisperer side, came out to greet us. They'd heard Rory's yipping and seen the puppies when they'd been outside mowing their front lawn and now they wanted a proper introduction. They're very chatty- though extremely nice- and it was a little hard to get away. Still, it's always nice to chat to the neighbours- particularly when they're not the ones with horribly yappy rat-terriers and a Dog Whisperer who likes to go shirtless when I really wish he wouldn't.

We eventually went along our way. I've learned that my neighbourhood is very dog-friendly. Almost every house has a dog or four that wants to greet my puppies. It's hard to know where to turn because of all the greeting barks. Still, we have our route and we carried on. I only had to deter Sookie and Rory from eating pinecones, hickory nuts and grass just a few times.

We made it around the block when we ran into the neighbour who lives in the house at the bottom of my garden. He's a new homeowner too and has done a ton of work on his house. He also has a little girl who lives with him part time who longs for a dachshund puppy. I've befriended her and let her hold Rory and Sookie any time she wants. He's a nice neighbour and he stopped to greet my puppies. Tonight, his little girl wasn't with him but we stopped to chat for a while. He let me peek my head in to see how much work he'd done on the house. He'd replaced all the carpet with laminate and I have to say, it looked pretty good. It makes we wish I didn't have my own light-blue-old-lady carpet that shows every stain...which isn't good when you're housebreaking puppies.

Anyway, after that, he told me he was a pipe-fitter and does a lot of plumbing and if I ever needed help with my plumbing, he'd help me out. He'd ever fit my faucets for free. Oh, and don't get any ideas. That's not an innuendo. He really is a plumber. That was rather nice of him, I thought. I think his name is Joe. He introduced himself to me the first time we met but my memory is horrible and I dont' know if I made that up or it's actually his name. It's not like I can say, "hey, is your name Joe?" without sounding like a dimwit.

Might-be-Joe is a nice man. He has a girlfriend who has a mini dachshund. He tells me a lot. I also met his neighbour- Bill- who lives across the street and always sits outside. They think my puppies are adorable.

We finally mosey-ed along a little further and turned the corner back onto our street. We were five houses down when two bicyclists pulled into their driveway and had to pet the puppies. The lady was super nice. Her name is Beth. She has dogs. She had a dachshund/golden retriever mix for 15 years but, sadly, she passed away not too long ago.

We finally made it home. The puppies were tired. I was amazed. I met more neighbours and talked to more people in one night than I have in almost the entire time I've lived here. They were all really nice. I mean, ok, so I do have the cutest puppies in the 'hood but, still, I think having puppies is the trick to meeting people. It was actually rather fun and the one thing I learned on this rather pleasant Monday evening is that no one can resist the power of the puppy.

Happy Tuesday!

Gardening with Puppies...

Once again, the weekend seems to have flown by and it's already time to be thinking about heading to bed early in preparation for Monday morning. It's not a feeling I enjoy. I much prefer the feel of a Friday night when you know that Monday is a far off day that will come eventually but, at that time, is easy to forget.

I think the weekend just goes too fast, no matter what you end up doing. For example, this weekend, I really didn't do anything of too much significance. I spent a great portion of it in the garden, fighting with weeds, trying to get it looking somewhat decent. Of course, I did this with the help of two puppies. Unfortunately, the pattern of this occurs like this:

1) Puppies see me digging up a weed with my trowel. They bound over to see what I'm doing.

2) They see my gardening gloves. Rory leaps upon my glove and latches on with her teeth.

3) Sookie decides that this looks like fun and also tries to grab hold.

4) I find a nearby stick/root/chunk of mulch and say, "hey, girls, look what I found!"

5) They see the stick/root/chunk of mulch and, when I toss it, they follow.

6) I return to weeding.

7) They get bored of their stick/root/chunk of mulch and come to help me dig.

8) They dig but end up filling in any holes I am making to plant things or they try to replant the weed I've just dug up.

9) They see my gardening gloves. See steps 2-5.

10). I lay down my trowel. They see my trowel and try to run off with it. I chase them.

11). I get my trowel back. I start weeding. They see my gardening gloves. See steps 2-5.

12) Sookie decides she wants a cuddle, therefore, she leaps onto my lap while I'm weeding. Rory, not wanting to be left out, also leaps upon my lap. They end up sniping at one another and roll off into the dirt and weeds to bicker it out.

13). They catch sight of my gardening gloves...you've got the picture by now.
This is not an exaggeration. Most of the time, I find them quite entertaining but I must confess, the gardening glove tug-of-war gets a little old. I even put a new pair on today because I had worn my old ones through. I gave them my old gloves. Apparently, they only want the gloves when they're attached to my hands because they abandoned the gloves I'd given them in order to try to leap upon my new gloves.

This is pretty much how I spent Saturday and Sunday. I tend to wear them out though and eventually, they get sleepy and lie down. This is usually my cue to take them inside, put them in their crate and run errands. Today, I had to go get more mulch and I picked up a few shrubs.

It's a nice routine. While I'll never get rid of the weeds, I am making progress. My only issue is with the Dog Whisperer, naturally. He continues to ignore his beasts as they yap continuously at us. I've got to the point where I can mostly ignore it but it's still annoying at times. Also, he's now stopped coming out when I'm there but, no kidding, the minute he sees the puppies out without me, he's right there, crouched by the fence, coaxing them towards him. Tonight, he did it shirtless which, as I've mentioned, is not terribly enticing for anyone. In fact, my puppies ran inside tonight as soon as he crouched towards them. I'm not surprised. It actually made me laugh because I watched them through the window.

I think, though, what it all comes down to is that I'm becoming quite settled in my house and with the puppies. I like having a routine. I like being domestic. There's nothing better than being outside on a beautiful spring afternoon with nothing more pressing than a million weeds to pull up.

I pulled a couple of thousand up today. I'm getting closer. Besides, I have the puppies to help.

I think I might have to stop wearing gardening gloves though.

Happy Monday!

The Strangeness of Dogs....

It's finally Friday. It's been an odd sort of week, not altogether bad but no altogether good, either.

Weather-wise, it's been an amazing week. It peaked at 82 degrees today. It hasn't been less than 70 degrees all week. The puppies and I have created a routine: At lunch, I go home, I uncrate them and they run free, rolling and lounging in the sun. Then, in the evenings when I get home from work, they play, I sit outside, enjoying the weather.

Unfortunately, our routine is going to change tomorrow. It's supposed to rain and cool down. This weekend it's supposed to be significantly cooler. I don't mind but I know the puppies will. I have learned that while they're almost completely housebroken, if it's wet and/or cold outside, they do not want to stay out there.

It's a challenge. Short of getting them both boots to wear, I'm not sure how to deal with this slight kink in the housebreaking routine. I think, in time, they'll get to the point where they don't care but, unfortunately, at the moment, they do.

It's odd the things that bother them. Tonight, they both cowered inside on my lap while our next door neighbour- not the Dog Whisperer but the other side- mowed his lawn. Yet they fearlessly explore the garden when there are other loud noises, far more disturbing noises, carrying on.

Still, as I always say, every is an adventure- both for them and for me. It's what makes life fun, I think. Some days, I wonder how I got by without the constant distraction that are the puppies. Other days, I think I must have been nuts to get them.

Yet it takes only seconds for me to realize that I'm always going to be glad I got them. They fascinate me. I've discovered that even with all the toys I've bought them, the attempts to discover what gives them the most entertainment, they're happiest with a 49 cent towel from IKEA.

We now have a game I call "towel". We go to the back garden and I wave the towel. Almost immediately, I have two little dachshunds clinging to it with their teeth. I try to pull it away, they clamp down. It's got the point where they refuse to let go and I can literally pick them up with the towel. It's a little alarming but they won't let go for anything, waging a never-ending tug of war with me.

It always ends. They usually end up somersaulting over one another to stay gripped on the towel but it only takes a slight distraction, such as a stick or a leaf and suddenly "towel" seems far less interesting. Of course, if I try to pick the towel up to tidy up the garden, they're immediately attached to it again.

I have strange dogs, what can I say? Yet, as I've said before and I'll say again, I wouldn't swap them for anything. Besides, people tell me I'm strange so I suppose we fit together, don't we?

Happy Friday and have a great weekend!

Updike vs. Hemingway: A Writing Retrospect

Tonight, I got to write and, let me tell you, it felt perfect. It's been a while. Having puppies around limits the time I have to sit down at my PC and just babble. Even when I try, they're there, trying to nibble at my feet, trying to remind me that they're there. They're rather hard to forget, though they don't know that.

It's not that I haven't been writing. A good friend of mine who also happens to be a talented writer challenged me to write a short story. She's the type of writer who is good at short stories. She likes flash fiction- stories that can be told or, at least, hinted at to the point of intrigue in less than 500 words.

If you've even glanced at my blog, you might realize that for me, Captain Monkeypants, Flash Fiction isn't exactly an, um, option. I'm what you'd call...loquatious...garroulous. Both are words I learned during my sophomore English class with a teacher named Hilda Studebaker who was slightly crazy but completely charming in the process. She was already almost at retirement age. She loved to write on the blackboard but, as she did so, in her enthusiasm, she'd end up getting chalk from previously written words all over her cardigan. She insisted that Hamlet's ego was pronounced 'eggo' and, when someone muttered, "Leggo my Eggo!" she insisted that the mutterer was a poet.

Mrs. Studebaker was...a character. I can't say she was a particularly good teacher but she was fascinating. She made you think about things in a way you'd never thought about them before. She did make us read Great Expectations which remains one of my least favourite Charles Dickens' novels. It's hard to not read about Miss Havisham when Mrs. Studebaker stands before you lacking all but the mouldy wedding cake.

Yet, Mrs. Studebaker taught us vocabulary. I learned the meaning of loquatiousness...garroulous..ness. These days, I know they apply to me. I'm trying to be better about being wordy but when it's your natural inclination...it's hard to fight.

In my defense, I did go through a period where I berated wordiness, sneered at it. It was all due to another English teacher. This teacher was the one that would probably go on to be the most
influential teachers I would ever have. In my senior year, I was part of a threesome of friends. One of my friends would go on to major in poetry. She was very good with description, with words. My other friends had the gift of conciseness, of being able to perfectly articulate that which she wanted to say. Then there was me, the shadow that fell in between. I liked to write but sandwiched between two friends like that, I never knew my place. I knew that I liked to write but used it as a comparison to my two friends.

Anyway, when I entered my senior year, I thought myself a descriptive writer, one who told a story and explained the whole thing. I used a ton of words, trying to capture the moment...exactly. Then we read some stories. We read some John Updike and some Earnest Hemingway. Then came an assignment: Write a story in the style of either Updike or Hemingway.

Well, if you know your writers, you'll know that Mr. Updike is Mr. Description- perfectly nailing descriptions with words, finding ways to describe the mundane in new, exciting ways. Mr. Hemingway, on the other hand, didn't mince words, not at all. He was very much a short, punctuated sentence man. Say what you mean and get out.

Well...me, I felt like I was already decidely Updike-an. I used description. I conceitedly thought that I could already write Updike.

So I decided to try Hemingway.

I got an A. I managed to change my entire writing style to short, clipped sentences that spoke nothing but fact, just like Hemingway.

It was a style that would haunt me for years. Not until I wrote my first novel did I feel the luxury of words, of knowing that it was ok to say more than what was happening, to be able to describe it without feeling naughty. In some ways, it worked for me. It taught me the ability to say much in a few words. Yet it was sparse and it was cold.

These days, I like to think I've cultivated my own style. I can use the Updike method of description to give my readers a mental picture of what I mean but at times, Hemingway comes into play and when something happens, it happens...I don't mince words.

It all took time. People say high school was the best time of their lives. I can't say that. It was an interesting time. Sometimes, it was good. Sometimes, it was just...awkward. Yet my senior English class was a cement of sorts. It showed me that there were people in my class to whom I hadn't even given the courtesy of considering who were smart, articulate people that would go on to big things. It was one of those classes which bonds you, makes you remember who recited Hamlet's soliloquay of "To be or not to be..." and did it well.

These days, I'm only in touch with a few of those classmates, mostly on Facebook. Of my two good friends, I remain in contact with both. They were both my 'rivals' back then, both good writers, my competition. These days, competition isn't a factor. We're all different people, still in touch, still friends. We're united by more than that senior English class but I'm fairly convinced that without that class and our amazing teacher, our ties beyond graduation wouldn't be quite so strong.

These days, I can call upon that memory of Updike vs. Hemingway, any time I doubt my writing style. When it comes to short stories, I'm glad I have friends who can do that better than I can. It teaches me to learn from them. I can't write flash fiction- the thought of telling a story in less than 1,000 words just seems slightly horrific and fully ridiculous to me but, because I've seen it done by a friend and, I admit, done well, I know it can be done...just not my me. I'm too garroulous, too loquacious...too...wordy. I remember the days when I thought I was an Updike so I became a Hemingway.

I'm embarrassed to even look back and see how pretentious I really was.

Still, I find, while short stories can be interesting, it's novels that I love, the idea of taking a concept and being able to spread out, stretch and find a comfort that delivers. I like having friends who also write. It keeps me motivated, it keeps me humble.

And, overall, it makes me appreciate the type of writing I love best and there's not substitute for that.

Happy Thursday.

Random Musings and Babblings...

I'm finding trends in advertising are getting slightly weird. I'm currently watching television and I just watched a commercial for the Ford Swap. In this ad, apparently families and friends of people who didn't drive Fords are secretely having their cars exchanged for a Ford for a week.

Now, these people are a lot nicer than I would be. For example, if I found out my family had swapped my Toyota Corolla for a Ford Focus, I'd be a little upset. Firstly, I'm rather pleased to drive a Toyota despite their recent flurry of bad news. Secondly, I'm a control freak. The idea of anyone thinking that it was ok to swap my car is just a little bit disturbing. It's just...not right!

Then I see an advertisement for Lunestra, the sleeping medication. Have you ever read the fine print for that? I have. Let's just say that it warns you that if you take this medication, it might cause you to do things that you won't remember when you're awake. Um, is that disturbing to anyone but me? I mean, how are you supposed to know what you did if you won't remember it? You could rob a bank and not remember it! You could eat the entire contents of your fridge and only discover you did it when you wake up and you're throwing up raw meat and eggs. Trust me, I saw an episode of Oprah or something where she talked to people who have a disorder that causes them to do exactly that. It made my stomach turn when you hear about the people who devoured whole raw steaks. I'm glad I could share it with you.

Then there's the lawyers. I think everyone has these advertisements, no matter where you are. They're the commercials that start, "Did you take this medication?" or a"Did you work somewhere where there was asbestos present?". The bottom line is they imply that they can get you a lot of money if you say yes. So...people do say yes and it creates a lawsuit that wastes millions of dollars and ends up not going anywhere.

I'm actually watching Dancing with the Stars while waiting for Lost to come on. I simply don't get this show. It's bad music and dancing. I usually quite like dancing but this is just...boring. I mean, you see one bad celebrity trying to hoof it up and you've seen it all...right? What am I missing here?

All in all, I think I'll mute the volume and watch the puppies instead. They're currently fightin over a piece of plastic they found from somewhere. I just confiscated a piece of tree that they hauled in. They really like to chew the strangest things....

This is the type of evening I've had...rather random. I did have a bird fly in my house which, again, was rather random. I have two doors leading outside on opposite ends of the family room. I had them both open so the puppies could go out. I heard this loud chirping sound and thought, "wow, that bird sounds close!" only to discover it was, actually close and sitting on top of my entertainment centre. He flew out again but he seemed quite happy. The puppies chased him outside. They haven't quite got the hang of the fact that birds can fly. They sidle up to them when they land in the garden and then try to pounce but, alas, the bird flies away. They tried that with a bumblebee. I don't think it would take more than one encounter to teach then that chasing bumblebees is not a good idea.

The Dog Whisperer also tried his nightly attempt to coax the puppies to visit. They, as always, ignored him and he sat there, crouched by the fence, waiting for them to come. It makes me laugh how they ignore him but if one of the other neighbours does the same thing, they go. I suppose I should feel sorry for the Dog Whisperer but since he allowed his dogs to yap while we grilled dinner tonight without so much as a token, "quiet!" I don't feel that bad. In addition to his dogs, the neighbours' dogs on the other side of them came to hang out after climbing through the broken fence. They have a very large black dog, the size of a German Shepard. What I find interesting is that large dog seems to go to the Dog Whisperer's garden specifically to do his, uh, business. Then he usually goes back home. And, let me tell you, he has big business.

I apologize for the randomness of this blog. I didn't have the best day at work; my boss, is, again proving that he doesn't honestly give a crap how I fill my time, just that I do it while he irritatingly actually grants the requests of my coworker to work on projects she wants to do. Given that I've talked to him about this three times, you can see why I'm a wee bit bitter. It's all good, however. I've found a new project, one that's near and dear to my geeky little heard and rather than ask if it's ok for me to work on it since it's technically not my job, I just told him I was going to do it and asked if he had a problem with that. He said no, naturally...which is why I told, rather than ask. It works better that way.

Anyway, I did think about spending the whole blog whining about the unfairness of my job but then I decided that there was no point. It's just a job...it pays for the food for me and my puppies. It lets me have the luxury of cable television and a DVR and, most importantly, it lets me go home at the end of the day...even if that means sitting through Dancing with the Stars before the good stuff begins.

Ah well...It could be worse. It could be American Idol.

Happy Wednesday!

A Bouquet of Pencils...

What is it about Mondays that is so thouroughly exhausting? I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that the past two days were the weekend and thus, they were fun. Just as you finally get relaxed, it's Sunday night and by Monday morning, you have to start all over again.

This particular Monday wasn't exhausting for any reason. It just was. I had far too much fun with the puppies this weekend and going back to work and having to crate them back up was hard. I knew they didn't want to be shut up just as I didn't want to be confined to my cubicle.

Nevertheless, it's part of the routine that is the reality of life. It's not all bad. By Wednesday, Monday will seem like a distant blur and the reward of Friday will lie ahead.

I signed two books today. I find myself asking if the requester is serious. I don't think I've quite accepted the fact that I'm an actual 'author' now. I have a book. People want me to sign it. Better yet, people really seem to be enjoying it- which is the whole reason I published it in the first place. There's nothing more rewarding than someone telling me how much fun it was and how they couldn't put it down- and that's now happened enough times that I've stopped thinking people are being kind.

It's just strange to sign the books. I think I need to get a decent pen. Currently, I've been signing them in a cheap-ish ballpoint pen that I pilfered from my company. Well, honestly, I didn't even pilfer it. Our company likes to give out pens. When they change design as they seem to frequently, they divvy up the pens to the employees. Thus, I have a cup full of ballpoint pens which write fine but...not well, if that makes sense.

To be honest, I prefer pencil anyway. I have a little cup with almost two dozen pencils in it. I call it my "Bouquet of Pencils". It makes me happy but I can't explain why. It gives me satisfaction to look at my pencil bouquet and choose the one I want to use. Maybe it's a regression thing; when I was a kid, I wanted no more than to cast aside childish pencil and move onto a more permanent pen. These days, I just like pencils. It's hard to explain the things that really make us happy in such a simple way though, isn't it?

So, between my bouquet of pencils, being asked to 'autograph' two books and having two little puppies to come home to, my Monday could have been far worse. These days, I try not to dwell on work like I used to because there's simply no point. I still dislike the politics of it all and there are many practices I despise but, well, as I've learned to say to myself whenever I feel slightly paranoid...it's just a job. It pays the bills, it feeds my puppies and it lets me splurge on Mario Batali cookware once in a while. When you have a Rory and a Sookie to come home to, even some of the worst days seem a little better as soon as I toss a tennis ball in the back garden and watch their little legs work to outrace the other.

As I always say, it's all about the simple things in life: puppies, pencils and Spring days...even on Mondays.

Happy Tuesday!