It's the last day of December. So far I've slept in, played with the dogs, had coffee and strawberry toast, caught up on Adventure Time, and started cleaning the house.
That's right, I'm cleaning the house.
This floor is atrocious. It's hairy and footy-printy all over the place and it's all because of these... these dogs. These horrible hounds that I've welcomed into my home only to see them tear it apart in fits of ecstatic glee when presented with a treat or an ice cube or when it sounds like someone maybe said their name. These terrible dogs with their eyes and waggly tails and ridiculously soft ears. These fucking dogs.
I love these fucking dogs.
At this very moment they're switching between playing with a tug rope to kissing each other to alertly looking out the window for intruders that may or may not be disguised as squirrels. They look at me warily every time I gravitate toward the vacuum because it means they'll have to hide again. Beau keeps bringing me his tug rope because, despite his best efforts, Cooper is just not very good at playing tug. The tug rope has made my hands smell disgusting. I've lost count of how many times I've washed them today.
I'm cleaning this house to show no trace of these furry, four legged loves of my life. I'm certain they'll have it back to normal within a few hours. Toys will be everywhere. The couch cover will be untucked and sloppy. There will be paw prints on the windows and hair absolutely everywhere.
Despite all the trouble they've caused and money they've cost, these boys are the best thing to come out of 2017. I know Cooper was here before that, but the bond he's developed with Beau has been priceless.
All I can see right now is a snoot and a tail.
Time to go boop dat snoot.