Some of you got my guessing game right. Some are still pretty clueless. I'll fill you in.
My anniversary present from my husband was similar to a Christmas present given to another blogger three years ago.
And the floppy . . . I just can't handle it.
So much floppy . . .
And tiny floppy little snores . . .
And buried somewhere inside . . .
. . . floppy puppy breath.
I clearly need to vacuum.
I can't believe playing with those big floppy ears . . .
. . . is this addicting.
And this easy without even waking her up.
Seriously, not even a twitch.
Wish I could sleep so soundly.
But I can't, because every two or three hours I have to carry this fat little basset hound down the stairs to use the bathroom.
And the fat . . . there's just so much.
Worth it.
