Oh, sweet baby. You make me wish I had money to buy stock in these terribly essential household items:
You probably wish you could buy stock in human whining. You listen to me complain enough about dog hair on things so much you’d be wealthy.
Oh sweet precious Tonks, I wish you would understand that when we’re outdoors building things like, oh…say…a storage shed, that you would play with your toys. Not our tools.
And you, dear sweet puppy of my heart, probably wish we wouldn’t be so preoccupied about cleaning up what comes out of your backside. Continue reading Cohabitation