My boy has not had a good day. The part of my brain that thinks EVERYTHING is my fault is saying it's because I left him yesterday. Yeah, I'm a bad mommy, I left bags of pumped (and bleeding to death would be more pleasant than pumping) breastmilk in the fridge and left the baby in the care of his utterly devoted father. Where the hell does this guilt come from? Does it just float around looking for someone to splatter?
But seriously, I went to a strange city, rode public transportation, spent hours in a crowded airport waiting for a delayed flight, and spent a few hours in a flying tube with a closed ventilation system. Who knows what nasty germs I brought home? It's all my faaaaaaaault...
Anyway. The boy barely napped all day. He got tired at the right times, but every time he started to drift away...
JINGLEJINGLEJINGLE. Freaking collar tags.
One or both beagles would get up (JINGLE), stretch each leg (JINGLEJINGLE), lick a furry crotch (JINGLEJINGLEJINGLE), sneeze (JINGLE), and then have a good shake (JINGLEJINGLEJINGLEJINGLEJINGLEJINGLEJINGLEJINGLEJINGLE).
If I take the collars off, that's when someone will leave the gate open and the dogs will take off and try to get back to Virginia, away from this northern outpost of hell.
However! After the last jingle jangle outburst, I went after them both with ponytail holders. Their collars are silent, but they are still identifiable. I am a genius!
The squirrels disagree. At least the fat one that used to own the side yard is bitterly resentful of the new Stealth Beagle.