Wife and I were laying on the bed, watching a Crossing Jordan rerun. Little maskless heeler comes up to the wife, ears down, eyes kinda mopey. Belly bloated. She got petting attention, but it didn't help. She went and flopped down by the wife's pillow, looking not quite miserable.

Her complaint about not feeling well was almost immediately followed by her masked sister. Same droopy ears, who headbutted the wife, demanding a 'nuggle. But again, the scritching at the neck didn't help. She flopped down between our feet, stretched out as much as she could, panting heavily.

Her belly, too, was bloated, but not quite so bad.

Yeah...

Thai pork, a slab of balogna, three double cheeseburgers plain, the usual cup of kibble and half cup of canned dog food, an entire chocolate shake, two bowls of milk, and two rolls of Smarties will do that to ya.

Happy Birthday, Heeler Sisters.

And to your sister in the hot springs town, your brother on the ranch with the stone house, your brother up in the Basin, and your three brothers we've lost track of (one stolen out of his truck in Colorado).

And to your brother buried under the sand dune up north, and your sister in our freezer.

Oh, yeah. And everything topped off with whipped cream spritzed straight from can to mouths.

Satchel and Bucky are sooo right... whipped cream rocks.