Brix, the suicidal dog, struck again. I went outside to see Steve's grill completely tipped over and the drip pan spotless. I'm guessing someone might have a tummy ache later, but I agree that last night's chops were as good as they must have smelled to a dog forever on the prowl.
In the meantime, I have to laugh at Misty, one of our guests this week. She's a blue heeler and her DNA forces her to herd. I walk to the kitchen for a glass of water, look down, and she is there. I go outside to gather the mail and walk into the house, she is by the door, waiting. I get dressed, she is there. I draw, she is there. I mean, Misty is the quintessential Eternal Presence. She'd make a great service god.