95-pound spoiled pibble baby (rescued in utero and adopted by us at 9 weeks) made sad face at us until we turned on the gas fireplace, and now he’s asleep, curled up in a ball, looking like the slightly off-center filling in his “kolache,” a foam-filled beanbag we got for our daughter but which he’s taken over.
His “seen some shit” chunky Heeler older brother (adopted as an adult after the foster plucked him off a city-shelter’s sad list) is in the other room, either among or near his Smaug-level hoard of all the soft dog toys with faces.
25-year-old preening cockatiel is loudly annoyed that I’m not in the office with him.
95-pound spoiled pibble baby (rescued in utero and adopted by us at 9 weeks) made sad face at us until we turned on the gas fireplace, and now he’s asleep, curled up in a ball, looking like the slightly off-center filling in his “kolache,” a foam-filled beanbag we got for our daughter but which he’s taken over.
His “seen some shit” chunky Heeler older brother (adopted as an adult after the foster plucked him off a city-shelter’s sad list) is in the other room, either among or near his Smaug-level hoard of all the soft dog toys with faces.
25-year-old preening cockatiel is loudly annoyed that I’m not in the office with him.