Sleepytime Gorilla Museum

Chico Jones sacks out after a party for our dear friend Pete Ellison, who is leaving us for fancy San Francisco. No-one was less surprised than I to learn that Chico's head has the same dimensions as a regulation-sized child's noggin, and he can easily rock a dinosaur party hat. Ain't no party like a French Bulldog party, because it really does wind down around one AM and everyone can go to bed, full of corn chips and belly rubs.

A Moving Plea

This is the time of year when my dogs most personally resent the "lifestyle choices" that spouse and I have made. They say, yes, meat is murder, but surely turkeys are only manslaughter. They see the Thanksgiving grocery store commercials on the television and smell giblet gravy and turn up their flat, leathery noses at Tofurky. If you and your family have any extra table scraps for these spoiled, fat, farting bastards, please mail them to our house in a greaseproof envelope so they will shut up.

Time-Travel Shocker

A fantastic individual has passed me this blog of antique photographs: imagine my surprise to learn that my own Chico is 92 years old!

That's 644 in dog years!

No wonder he doesn't like kids in his yard.