About 2 and a half months ago, my little family uprooted itself from Southern California to Idaho to be near my husband's family. Southern California is the only place my son has ever lived. I was born there, moved away as a kid and spent the last 25 years there again. So, it made me giggle when one of my friends in Southern California wrote on her Facebook page that she was so happy to get her furnace replaced (finally!) because it was so cold there. I, of course, had to comment that it was a whopping 18 degrees where I was at the time. Her response? "That is so completely beyond my ability to comprehend." It's OK. I'm still trying to comprehend it myself. My comment ended with "and the dog ain't happy about it either".
Our poor little chocolate lab seems to be having the hardest time. Even though we built an insulated dog house for her, she ain't havin' NONE of it. She now sleeps in the garage, with a nightlight in her own bed...wearing a doggie 'hoodie'...with a blanket. There's even a small space heater set up high and pointed down on her whenever someone's at home. My husband and I are both allergic to her or we'd have her stay in the house full-time. We've decided that "And the dog ain't happy about it either" is the appropriate period at the end of just about any sentence we start.
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