I am actually writing this on Sunday night because my Monday is spoken for a couple of times over. I have the carpenter coming to replace the back door that has been scratched by dogs and cats for 26 years now. Whitney, my sweet fluffy black and khaki cat who sat on my shoulder would climb the outside of the door and hang on until someone removed her from her eye level perch. Bonnie Doon, the Queen of All Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs would hit the door with her huge paw over and over and over again until we humble human servants jumped up and opened the door for Her (not so) Patient Highness.
But now both of my beloved girls are gone and the door will be replaced.
I spent the last hour or so watching the dog toys wash in the new washer's bulky cycle. See how dirty the water is, yuck! Dog spit is really bad when you have a basset hound who eats poop. The toys begin to smell like the opposite end from the mouth and poor Dutch refuses to play with them until I wash them again. Soon they will be nice and clean. They are currently tumbling in the new dryer on a low heat sensor mode.