What
Nothing to blog about? Hardly. But between reading and walking the dog twice (in my nightgown, which ain't gonna happen tomorrow when the temp drops into the teens) I've run out of time.

Forty years ago, my parents bought 'us' a dog. Cleo - the dachsund. My mother claimed that, though the dog was high in our affection, she was in deed my mother's. Indeed. By day to day contact and the realities of life, the dog became mom's. She was the one who could remove a bone from Cleo's mouth without as much as a low growl.

I fear the new dog and I are bonding similarly. She has been here since yesterday afternoon. Everyone is crazy about her. But I get up at 6:00 and guess who she turns to for her early morning constitutional? Yes, me, the alpha b***h. I whispered my status softly into her ear the moment she arrived. So who does she turn to? Of course.

Her name is Cody. Fran doesn't want to change it because she already has 'abandonment issues.' My sister suggested a segue to Coty - more feminine - and then an eventual change to Maybelline.
I vote for Cleo.