She was running through the house, chasing Tripper, and doing whatever she could to avoid me. Now granted lots of times I should be avoided but all I really wanted to do was brush her. Forget trying to brush her. She runs, she squirms, and she bites at the brush. For a girl she really doesn’t like the whole couture thing.
Then she drops. Now, she looks like an angel doesn't she! Don't you just want to bury your face in that fur. I wouldn't though she's still wet. I'd pay good money for that hair color.
P.S. For all you that have kept up with the presentation anxiety I was having you will be happy to know that everything turned out OK. The presentation went well. There were about 130 people in the room but since I didn’t realize that until later I didn’t seize up like a zombie. I must not have done anything too stupid either. I didn’t break out in a rash, or have something stuck in my teeth, or drop the F-bomb, pass gas, pick my nose, or any other socially unacceptable thing. Some of them, the audience members, even asked me to give it again somewhere else. I’d like to think that they weren’t pity invitations. Though I’m perfectly happy accepting pity invitations or pity anything else for that matter.