So, Mr. McSlore and I took a little vacation on the shores of Lake Michigan this past week. I have a friend who has a cute as a button house in Harbor Country, and we were visited by some midget mischief makers,
This is Aidan. He likes to ride down sand dunes face first and then hack it all up on the shiny wood floors he can't grip. He hates those floors. They make him take mincing Nancy-boy steps every time he wants to navigate to the kitchen area for free handouts.
His fur looks like a cowhide. Perchance, on the sad day of his passing, some little girl will receive a couture worthy Ralph Lauren-esque cowhide print coat for her Barbie? It's what Karl would do.
Just don't make him into these-
There's a circle of hell waiting for you if you do. I'll be waiting in my Crocs.
Now, excuse me while I nap and fart before my Daddy takes me back to Chicago.
The dog. Not me. I fart, THEN nap.