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!