Chewing Barbie

I don't know how many of y'all come here every day for your dog fix, but I suspect that there's a fair number. And a subset of those are the Boston terrier fans who especially dig googly-eyed dogs. Being one, I know you'll do practically anything for a cute BT picture. I have calendars, for Pete's sake, full of dogs who are about half as cute as Chet. I never thought I would be somebody who sought out socks with my dog on them, but I do. I have a BT sticker on my car. I go out and buy this stuff. Now That is Scary. Can a Chet Baker calendar be far behind?
So, in this post, I pander to you, Googly Eyed Dog People. As I write, Chet Baker is sulking atop my half-packed suitcase, his eyes saying it all. You just got home, you creep. How in tarnation can you be packing again?
See Future Posts for What Chet Was Up To while I was struggling with Blogger, my suitcase half-packed...

They're so sweet when they're puppies, before all the baggage arrives, before they figure out how to ruin your morning with one baleful glare. Before they become some sort of hairy amalgam of pet, child, and vengeful spouse. So I present Chet at about five months of age, as he was beginning a dental campaign that would reduce Barbie down to a nubbly torso. (Which was fine with Phoebe; she had already wrapped her in white tape and mummified her long before).