Somebody likes everything about me, even my dirty laundry.
Karen called the other day. They'd been back from Mexico since Monday and have been catching up on sleep and, in her case, struggling with a migraine.
Would I like to keep Ducky for another month? Hell yeah.
Her female Yorkie should be going into heat and Karen would like her to have every opportunity to mate with the male Yorkie they've got. (I know, three housedogs! What do they need Ducky for?) When Ducky's around, things might go less well.
Did you know that spayed males can still get it on? I didn't. I thought male dogs were all finished with that business once they couldn't breed anymore. But not our Ducky. He's still a sex machine.
So Lucky Ducky (or Sucky Ducky, as Scott calls him) is here for a while longer. He's graduated from the tote-bag in the closet where my laundry was collected, to the basket I finally brought over from the other house. Strange as that is, because he's got the run of the house -- we let him on the furniture, on the beds -- even under the covers, god help us. Why he prefers the laundry ... well, who knows how dogs think.
