It's Christmas Eve day, and my mother is baking pies. Belle is sleeping beside me, but Murphy is in the kitchen, keeping a close eye on the food preparation.
I can't help but recall that it was just two years ago that we went though this same sort of situation, back when Murphy was still a fairly new dog to me. And on that day, my mother, bless her heart, proved once again that she neither listens to advice or learns from the past. That story can still be found here:
Murphy's Christmas Pie
And as I see Murphy sitting in the kitchen, waytching like a hawk as she fills pie crusts, I can't help but expect that at sometime today, history is likely going to repeat itself in some fashion and the only one who will be even remotely surprised is my dear mother. I'll try to have the camera close by.
Merry Christmas, you great people!