Dogs Need Happy Hour Too

Wore the martini glasses today, in anticipation of happy hour a colleague put on the calendar last week. Smoky, it appears, wasn’t terribly impressed with my Friday after-work plans, but had one or two ideas of house own about what we should do when I got home. Incidentally, they all included playing with formerly stuffed animals that have somehow had their squeakers removed.

“Please can we tug-of-war? I even brought us a toy that matches your feet!”

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