Happiness is

An enthusiastic morning greeting from a geriatric deerhound. Megan tried her best to punch my lights out while I was rubbing her chest. She's on good form this morning. While I was loading the dishwasher I had to retrieve a purloined dog-food fork from her mouth.

Meanwhile I suspect the cookie thief was KuBrin, as he would not eat his breakfast then promptly threw up his pills. There's a magpie in the garden making the best of what's left.

The pilling thing is a bit complicated with a hypothyroid wolfie and an epileptic arthritic deerhound, plus Cleo has to be bribed to take her glucosamine:


I've promised Sam a cooked breakfast but it's now nearly 10AM and there are no signs of stirring from his pit. I'm hungry.