Yesterday morning, Goblin Foo was in the midst of pooping when a squirrel ran directly past her face. Pooping and squirrels being her two main avocations, this was the Sophie’s Choice of one little Boston terrier’s life. Her reaction, to sort of squat-run-lurch toward the fleeing rodent with poop pellets bursting out behind, was an option not open to the original Sophie if for no other reason than the Nazis would have been able to follow her trail. Oops, only Bill O’Really is allowed to evoke the Nazis. When I do, it is gross, but Goblin likes gross. Gross is how we celebrate her seventh adoption anniversary, which was this past Sunday. She wanted a bicycle but got a stuffed rat instead. She has already chewed its ears off. She was clutching it a little while ago when she came to tell me it was thundering but she was Not Scared.

I was going to change Goblin’s name to Bumble-Butticula. However, I think I am going to go with Bumble-Buttstinkula. I can hear the squirrels quivering in their trees.