Ahem.

Turns out we are in fact getting the dog, Rocky. I'll spare you the rerun of the details; he needs a home, we can provide one. After going to see him at his present home on Sunday we looked at each other and said "what a great dog."

His current family feel they can't keep him, and they (and perhaps as importantly, their kids) seem to like us. Rocky came right over and put his head in my lap. It'll be a bit stressful for everybody involved, I'm sure, but we'll adjust, and we can, in fact, give him a good home.

Eeple.

I'm excited and a bit in dread (Does dreadful mean that? Why not?). We'd sort of thought maybe we'd get a kitten, but this is a 70-pound full grown hunting dog, not 10 ounces of fluff (with, to be sure, claws and teeth).

Who, we're told, does his business at home. Unlike Teh Dawg, who had a favorite house 3 blocks over in front of which she liked to poop.

I guess this breaks the paradigm of pet names with 5 letters starting with S. Unless we rename him Socky.

Um, no.