She has a thing for toes.
I was The Meanest Mrissa In The World last night: I put her in her crate to sleep all by herself. She'd never had to sleep by herself before, and she cried piteously. It didn't last long, though: between the trip home and playing in the backyard with
(Edited to add:
In non-puppy news, I have the curious sensation of having entered the Season Of Birthday too soon. My family is very holiday-oriented (one friend once described us to someone who hadn't met us by saying, "They have Arbor Day traditions"), so usually there's some observance of Fourth of July. This year we were in London. We passed around a bag of red, white, and blue peanut M&Ms on the bus, and my mom wore a star-spangled scarf, and that was the extent of that. I'm glad it was: it would have been obnoxious to wander around London singing "My Country 'Tis of Thee" or some such, since we picked a specific week to be there. But still, it feels like the record player has skipped here. I have my first birthday present of the year already, and that's not even counting the "surprise"