It's sort of a gross Christmas Eve -- all grey, cloudy and drizzling. A perfect morning to stay a bit longer in bed. Cleo agrees. as she usurps my warm spot in bed and shoves her butt onto my pillow.
The puppy refuses to leave her warm, snug crate. Always full of the surprise peeps, she does not get to share the bed.
The elder pug of many years, with the miracle bladder, stretches languidly out onto the bed.
stop taking flash pics, mama. it's annoying.
i can almost smell the sleepiness. sasha looks like she's contemplating viciously gumming your camera to death.
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