Meet Coco Chanel, fondly known as Coco. She's a four-pound lap warmer who came home with us on the advice of our friend who is a dog trainer. Her eyes are not green and demonesque, but I couldn't straighten that out. Tilly is mothering her, as we thought she would, and Maddie vacillates between amusement, jealousy, and depression. We did manage to seat our family of five on the chair and footstool in my office and have everyone get along, so I have high hopes for a harmonious future in our household.
I'm still giddy over Tuesday's results. Not-Blogless-for-long Spring and I went to NYC on Wednesday, and there were lots of happy folks with Obama pins on their jackets. Nicholas Kristof captured what may be my main reason for joy in his op-ed piece in today's Times. It's about time we moved away from sound bites towards real, robust, meaningful statements.
Coco is snoozing away as I write. Pretty soon I have to get up to do my pushups, but I'll find another way to amuse myself for a few moments longer. Maybe looking for couture dog sweater patterns will do the trick!