The puppy has induced a sort of torpor combined with a lackadaisical sort of alcoholism: I really, really want that cocktail but am too lazy to make it. Luckily Travis has perfected my jam, the from-scratch whiskey sour. I remember in one of the early months of having Prancyd, when he would bark and bite and howl and be generally adorably horrible, picking up 2 enormous bottles of gin and whiskey on the way home because I seriously could not face my little beast without a cocktail. In this picture you can see basically all our possessions piled on the surfaces he couldn't reach. He can reach them all now.

Now we've turned into that dog couple. All we do is talk to each other about how cute he is. I' m horrified that this post has turned into a post about my puppy but am not even surprised at this point.