So Maebe has pretty much recovered and things are back to whatever passes for normal around here.  Having Lyle around means things are never really normal.  Crazed Whigle.

I've heard the houndy types complaining about the distinct lack of toys around here since "The Incident."  I'm here to set the record straight.  As a Wild Haired Terrier, I naturally love toys.  The squeaky carrot (a.k.a. Spring Nip) was my favorite.  I'd squeak it quietly to myself and my eyes would glaze over in a state of blissful contemplation.  Later I learned about the wacky cat.  Wacky cat and I could hang out together to pass the day in a state of contentment.  When we welcomed the Biggie into the family, those joys went to the wayside because a dog just can't reach that Nirvana while a crazy jealous dog is barking her fool head off to stop chewing her toys.  I'd even be happy to share if she knew what that meant.  See, toys that she gets her paws on seem to have this way of disappearing and seriously, no one wants to share their favorite toys with someone only to learn that they were ripped to shreds.

So, as far as I can tell, there haven't really been any toys worth having in just over two years.  Which isn't to say that I'm not glad that Maebe's better, because I really am.  We grrrls have to stick together after all.

Oh, and for the record, I for one am glad the boss ma'am didn't go to the humane society this week.  One terrier (well two if you count the boss man) is more than enough for a house if you ask me.