Precious

Recently, my older sister brought home the newest member of her family, a Maltese puppy named Max. My younger sister and I are quite amused at this turn of events since my older sister has never been much of a dog person (in her defense, there was that nasty dog-bite-on-the-ass episode when we were kids). We truly never thought that she would try her hand at puppy training and I am looking forward to my next trip to my hometown so I can see it for myself (in a phone call earlier today, my brother-in-law confided his own amusement at watching his lovely wife clean puddles from the carpet several times a day. He ought to be ashamed. Also, hee!).

As for what prompted my sister’s change of heart regarding dog ownership, younger sister and I are of the mind that having Max to care for is a way to assuage older sister’s feelings of Empty Nest Syndrome now that her kids are teenagers and less dependent upon her. Either that or, she purchased him purely for the thrill of shopping for doggie accessories. And, since Maltese pups are so incredibly wee and precious, and since he will be living on a farm, surrounded by bad-ass ranch animals; I'm sure he will need this.

Why, it just screams Back off, Barnyard cat! I will cut you!

And, really; doesn't every dog need a leather vest with a skull and crossbones?

Sheeee-yeah! In fact, if I didn’t know for a fact that Hugh would kill me and bury my body in a shallow grave, I would totally buy one for Rowdie.

He would just eat it but, still.

My Name Is Rowdie.

I Eat Twee Little Dogs in Leather Vests For Breakfast.