Rome wasn't built in a day, and our fence won't be built in a month.
That's okay. If I step outside of my little bubble, I can see that this will be a great month for the Detergent boys: Fab and Omo.
There isn't a box of detergent anywhere that will get these boys clean. They're at Camp Mothership and getting into all the cool activities they offer. They go on discovery walks in Smellventures, develop their creative side in Farts and Craps, get school credit studying pedology and ediphology, and contemplate their navel (or pink lipstick) in the new-age-style yoga for hounds: Coqueroche du Soleil. They have rejoined the pack of permanent Camp Mothershippers, and the counselors of Jack Russell terriers tell me that no funny business has gone on between the sexes. I don't care who has had what snipped. My boys go to camp to find their urdog and not get to third base, thank you very much.
Camp Mothership allows humans to visit. Captain Cathy and First Mate Ron encourage visitations, especially by humans who bring wine. I have been out enough that I (along with Brooke) have our own room there. At night, I can have special sleep time with my boys. They don't get to sleep on the bed at home, but at Camp Mothership, there are different rules:
This is how it began. Two greyhounds and one human on a single mattress on the bed. Now I know why Fabian lost his leg. Fate knew that Fabian as a whole would be just a wee too large for fursome threesomes.
And this is how it ended. Omo, a sleep growler, and I conversed all night: Grrr. It's me, Omo. Grrr. It's me, Omo. He eventually rolled over so that his back was to me, not his feet. I like to think that he was stretching into me for a cuddle, but there is a chance that this was his plan to take over the world–or mattress.
Although I miss the boys every day, I know that they are having a great time. When I go out there, all the dogs get excited to see a friend, but mine do more zoomies and get their paws all the way up. That little extra tells me that they're mine, and I'm theirs.
I'll end this with a few shots around the yard, including some of the dental work done on Omo and Elmo by Dr Chastity, DDS JRT:
You may have noticed some other species in there. Frogs on Dogs is a great game we play. We also get to milk the cows. They're not Jersey girls; they're Holstein hos.