Anthony and I love Sunday Funday. The rest of the "family members" do, too...but Ant and I especially enjoy it. It's a day of not only getting things done that you otherwise would not do (ex: today we put mine and hubby's new rug into the living room, made coffee, and watched Looney Tunes before the football game). We relish in the calm, but always make room for party time.
This Sunday, I decided to get one big, nagging, unpleasant chore done: I washed Hailey and Comet. The worst part is getting them into the tub...Comet may only be part lab, but he is pretty heavy for someone my size. They took it relatively well, though, and I only got wet dog splattered in my face three times.
I wish everyone knew my dogs. And since that is largely impossible, I just feel bad that their awesomeness can only be shared with such a small portion of "everyone." I told hubby today that they're not necessarily the most obedient dogs, but it's OK because they never do anything bad. They are perfect. Playful, snuggly, entertaining, chill dogs. My future children have some big shoes to fill. (No. I'm not pregnant.) You can't tell me they're not the most adorable things you've ever seen. I wish I could read their mind, though. I wish I could read most people's minds, because I'm that nosey (I'm the girl who stares at another table at the restaurant and obsesses over what they're talking about) but more than people, I want to know what the heck my dogs are thinking when they give me those judging eyes. See below: when Miles picks Comet up for a picture, his face looks like he wants to say "Are you kidding me right now? Put me back on the ground where I belong, you fool."