A Dog's Life

It was a lovely afternoon at Chateau Steelypips. I sat in the back yard reading a biography of Ernest Rutherford (about which more tomorrow), while Emmy guarded against intrusions of various sorts: squirrels, inferior dogs out for walks, the next-door neighbors' kids.

There comes a time, though, when no matter how nice it may be outside, you just want to go inside and take a nap:

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It's so hard to be the Queen of Niskayuna.

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Well, after a fine meal of squirrel with inferior dog, washed down with a couple of kids, you'd also want to take a nap!

Dude, I don't even know you, and your FutureBaby isn't even born yet, but the thought of "toddler" + "the gap between the door and the top step" (+ or - sleeping dog) is making me hyperventilate.

Even the innumerate can figure that math out-please fix it!

Gap? What gap? It's a step down.

The way that complete strangers on the Internet feel entitled to tell other complete strangers what to do never fails to amaze me.

Step down for an adult, maybe-but OK, I'm sorry. I apologize.

Awww. Dogs manage to project more affability per unit mass than just about anything else.