Canine intuition

Abby has a sixth sense about her girls. She ranks with Carl among the canine caretaker elite.

Take last night. She was worried sick about Gwennan. Laying at her feet, whining {she is the talking-est dog we've ever owned}. Pawing at me to check on her my baby. So sweet, until...

Gwennan threw up on her, twice.

I wish I illustrated posts, so you could 'see' the scene without actually seeing the disgusting mess {no one should have to see that}. Since I can't even draw crappy pictures, you'll have to use your imagination.

Abby's bath brought our total to 6 showers in 12 hours {feeling fine, but not wishing to be left out, small one dumped her food over her head, twice}.

In case you stopped by searching for spiritual encouragement or a new recipe, they're in the works. Really. I have pictures edited and drafts in the works. But today, I am not in a romantic or creative mood. Blame the all night vigil anticipating another eruption.

If you want to feel bad for us this morning, that's fine. I'll take a little sympathy, just a little. Really, we are fine. Gwenny ate a big breakfast this morning that has blessedly stayed in place. Nobody else feels sick. Here's to an isolated incident.

If not, at least I have a superdog warning system in place. But next time I'll thank her for the head's up, then lock her in another room.