dog fighting. no really, fighting dogs. well, not really.

as i sit here in my peaceful  house tonight at my computer, ready to write, the lights are just right, the TV is off, brad is busy working on a's just me and the glowing lights of the screen...
and these two.
uncle brad and aunt caca are dog sitting our nephew, stewart, in all his regal name highness.  he and peggy london are best friends forever already.  and like to make our house a track meet that consists of running in circles until one of them finds the perfect hiding place.  and then it starts over again.  
it neva stops, round the clock entertainment.  
call me lucky.
heck, call me blessed.
i'm calling the pound!

that's a JOKE.  no pounds will be called.
but that dear stuffed animal never deserved to be torn apart by his ear and leg.
a dogs gotta do what a dogs gotta do.

the end.
p.s.  i think the writing is going to have to wait.  cause here comes breaking bad!  holla.

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