|This is her "I can't believe you brought home another|
fucking dog" face. She's probably also contemplating
how to kill me and/or Sampson in our sleep.
And a Bull Mastiff, Sampson:
Let me describe to you exactly what is going on in my house at this exact moment. The Preteen just walked out the door to get the bus, Captain Awesome is doing the coo-coo bird dance with Jack on Jack's Big Music Show (YES, the TV is on already. Don't judge.) Roxie is trying to show Sampson (who easily doubles her in size) that she rules his shit, and he ain't picking up on it too quickly. So there's some snarling, and barking, and yipping, and whining, and oh, now Roxie is running down the hall and Sampson is galloping. Seriously, he gallops. And he tries to hump her constantly. He's not fixed yet, but she is, so we won't have any mutant dumb galloping fuzzballs running around, but I really don't want to answer "Mom, WHY IS SAMPSON DOING THAT???" Quinn just shoved three pieces of cereal bar in his mouth, turned on the light, the ceiling fan, and dumped the crumbs off his plate onto the floor, and is now licking the plate and going "ahhh", like it was a hugely refreshing drink.
I'm going to vacuum in about 3.5 minutes, and although I'm certainly not talented enough (yet) to blog and vac at the same time, this is what's going to happen. Quinn will chase me with the vacuum trying to sit on it, the dogs will chase me trying to attack the vacuum, because obviously it is this alien being trying to abduct me, or something. The rest of the time will be me, yelling at all three to get the hell out of the way, and if "ALL Y'ALL DIDN'T LIVE HERE I WOULDN'T HAVE TO DO THIS 2174981 TIMES A DAY!" Then, I'll nuke the coffee that has gotten cold, contemplate the meaning of life, and wish we had a bottle of Bailey's in the fridge.