Wow...Thursday already! Just as I was searching for something funny to post. I got this email from my daughter Heather...My PREGNANT daughter, I might add! Wahoo!

This is another Simon and Sly saga...her two...still living...dogs. And this is real!

So....we came home from dinner the other night and as I tried to open our door it wouldn't swing all the way open. Perhaps that's because my freezer and fridge doors were wide open air conditioning my apartment.

And why were these doors open, you ask?

No, I wasn't trying to air condition my apartment. My sweet wonderful dogs (which I'll have you know are still alive today only because the ground is too frozen to bury them) had decided to help themselves to the contents of our fridge and freezer.

As I walked into our apartment I was greeted with the sight of my furry children gulping down MY food as fast as they could. Simon was under the coffee table eating shredded cheese (the plastic bag it was in was mysteriously never recovered from the scene) and Sly laying on MY bed surrounded by cottage cheese and holding in his freaking paws around a carton of light cream.

I had wondered about the white drops that marked a trail from the fridge to the bedroom. Oh, silly me. It's just a dairy product my dog felt like eating.

I did mention they're still alive, right? Isn't that worth a medal or something? Whatever!

Here comes the even better part of the story.

We let both dogs out for an extended period of time because puke and poop in my apartment really rubs me the wrong way. Just as we're about to go to bed, we hear it, yep. Son of a B! Sly unleashed upon my kitchen floor (yes, conveniently carpeted) the most copius amount of vomit I have ever witnessed. Are you kidding?! You were just outside for an hour!!!!!

The hubby and I banded together to clean up the mess. I think the dry-heaving made our marriage stronger. OK, everything is cleaned up, let's go to bed and get some rest-right? WRONG!!! Around 2am we were woke up by our dogs having a knock down, drag out fight. Why? Oh, you know, they were disagreeing over who got to eat the second round of vomit.

A positive note: we didn't have to clean that puke up.

So the moral of story? I don't know! Please God, fix my devil dogs!

ROFLOL...and my response to my daughter was..."You're puking, the dogs are puking, I know all that puking is making poor weak-stomached Bryan puke....the family that pukes together, stays together"...ROFLOL!