Of all my Mabel stories, this one falls somewhere between eating a loaf of homemade bread and eating fifteen Zyrtec. While I have been in the office typing tomorrow’s post for my other blog, Mason has been laying sweetly at my feet. Dear, sweet Mason. My first-born. My good dog.
On the other hand, Mabel has been missing in action. I heard her sneeze (or something that sounded like a sneeze), and then I heard some bumping around, so I finished typing and then went to check on her. I found her underneath the coffee table with not one, but TWO rolls of brand new toilet paper – shredded – on my den floor.
I mean, the least she could do is clean up her own mess!