Let's see Barney at eight dog years, is 56 our age. No wonder.

Barney, our mutt, has been driving me crazy of late. We always go for a walk around 11:30 a.m. It's that particular time because I wait until after I hear from my youngest, who calls around that time, or 6:30 a.m. her time. I have a shadow for almost three and a half hours before such time ~ Barney waiting for his walk. I mean, it's not like he hasn't already had one walk in the a.m. After all, Krip takes him out around 6 a.m. for a walk, so he isn't keeping his legs crossed or anything having to hold it all in for such a long period of time. The mutt just wants a walk NOW.

And God help us all if it is pouring outside! Barney acts as if it's all my fault that we are having a deluge of rain. No amount of me telling him that I can't help if it's raining, and there is no way in hell I'm gonna walk him in the pouring rain ~ I get the Barney glare.

When we get back, I continue to get the glares from Barney from about 12:30 p.m. onward until 4:15 p.m. That's dinnertime for Barney. I mean, it's not like he doesn't eat beforehand. He has his breakfast which he nibbles on all morning long. It's just that he wants his dinner NOW.

The rest of the day, when not putting up with Barney glaring at me or tripping over him because he makes sure he is right there; I mean, right under me, is having to put up with his toots. Now these aren't ordinary toots. These are get down greasy, garlicy-type of smelling toots. Krip thinks I'm making up the smell of these toots, but then Krip can't smell, which in this case is a real blessing.

Oh. My. God. Barney is tooting right now. I'm having to type with one hand while holding my nose with the other. I suppose I'd better stop now and get his sorry tooting ass out there on our walk. Those two holes in my back are starting to hurt a bit.

"Stop glaring at me Barney! We're going...right NOW!"