We have two dogs.

Their names are Callie and Bob.

Or The Old One and the Stinky One.

Here’s the Stinky One:

He’s the reason our carpet is the color that it is.

(I’m embarrassed to say that when we bought the house from the childless and dogless former owners in 2001, the carpet was off-white. I KNOW.)

Here’s the Old One:

She’s the reason why my kitchen floor always looks like a barren desertscape with furball tumbleweeds scudding across its surface.

We also call her Tufty.

I always wondered why old dogs look so scruffy until a friend who’s a dog trainer told me it’s because their pituitary gland becomes less efficient at telling their bodies to release all that old hair. So it just gathers and mats up.

Or in Callie’s case, puffs off of her back like clouds of smoke from a chimney whenever she’s alarmed.

She has a nervous disposition, so she’s alarmed a lot.

And no matter how often I brush her, I never get ALL the hair.

Did I mention she’s afraid of the dog brush? Yeah. I have to use a shedding tool and keep telling her to “stay.”

So now you know what did this morning: Brush the dog.

Here’s what it looked like in progress:

Note: My sexy outfit of a gray sweatshirt and brown yoga pants and fluffy brown slippers.

Also: Do you like my haircolor? Just went back from blond. I think it looks better with my face. Oh yeah. You can’t see my face here. You might’ve noticed that you don’t see my whole body either.

I think it’s slimming.

Creative cropping: When you’re too cheap to buy Photoshop.

Finally: You think that trash can is frightening? Read on…

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Anyone interested in Callie’s offspring? She’s fixed, but I think I can make you a really nice puppy from this pile of fur.

You know how other people, when their dog dies, have it stuffed? Well, I’m having Callie knitted.