If William F. Buckley reads this blog, we're sure he's already drafted the damning letter in which he enumerates then laments the ways in which the quality of our editorial discourse has slid, no, charged downhill since the little dog came into our lives. "Have your minds gone soft with this creature?," goes the paragraph in which he calls himself a "longtime reader who's had enough". Buck continues: "While I used to await each penetrating new post on Britney and shiver with delight at Koko the Clown's political-horror-fiction, now I can't even open my browser without a picture of this coddled mutt filling my monitor with pointy-nosed filth. Shame on you! Consider me a lost cause."
Readers, we assure you our blog will not be exclusively about Cocoa in the days and weeks to come, but remind you that she is our little baby, and very sweet, and that we fall more in love with her each day. Take this morning for instance: the little angel waited outside our bedroom (from which she's banished) door and then flopped around like a sea otter on the couch, her stub-tail flying, all the while shaking her head happily and barking silently (how zen, Co!). Then she plunged into her little sweater and let us dress her in her leopard print jacket (inherited from Waggytail Rescue) and gamboled out into the newfallen snow! Her elation was short-lived - her feet got so cold - but ours won't be.