I dunno, maybe Eliot had it wrong

It seems to me lately that January is the cruelest month.

It's the metaphorical sugar crash after the binge of the holidays. (of course, it's also PMS, but shhhhh, I'm trying to make a case here)

I just read Nels' post about his baby Auggie girl, and I started crying. Can't stop now.

It's gray and raining and warm and not January weather at all, and I want a big ol' snowstorm to stomp through with my girl.

My oldest and dearest friend in the whole world is going through some tough times, too, though it doesn't seem right for me to blog about that. But it's just more evidence for my claim about Eliot. (ha)

S. and I have been taking all four dogs on walks every night, and it's such a sight to see us all out there, Belly pulling to be out in front at all times, which doesn' t take much since the other three are, as S. likes to put it, "long on the tooth," so quite a bit slower. Kylie's wrapping herself around S.'s legs, Mulder's stopping to sniff everything and anything, and Scully's just bopping along, happy as all hell to be outside, her ears flopping as her little sausage body tries to keep up with Daddy. I usually take Mulder and Belly, cuz despite the sniffing, Mulder's the only one who can keep pace with the big one. I love how little Mulder's butt wiggles when she walks, her tail swaying cuz she's so happy to be out in the world of new and exciting smells.

I. LOVE. DOGGIE WOGS.