Part II of the series.

The other day, it was National Dog Day, and I took the moment to express the love of my yellow eyed monster. I love that dog SO much. He is just as much a part of the family as anyone else. He is the best dog anyone could ever ask for. So loving. So sweet. I mean, look at him:

Until he isn't. And it's usually right after we spoil the shit out of him.

On Sunday, we spent most of the day with Winston Churchill. We stepped out for breakfast, but hung out and watched some movies with our baby bubba for most of the day. Movie watching means that our bubba gets up on the couch for extra cuddles. A LOT OF LOVE. OK?

Caydence persisted that we go swimming, on this lovely August afternoon. So away we went, the three of us out the back door and on our way to the swimming pool.

Upon our return, there were remnants of pizza crust packaging strewn about the living room.

I bought a 4-pack of organic pizza crusts from Costco (in the heat of the moment after the egg incident). You know, because it would be fun to make our own pizzas and chill the fuck out. BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU DO ON SUNDAYS. CHILL.

We used two of them on Saturday. I sealed up the remaining two, and left them on the counter all night, ALL MORNING (when we left for breakfast), and that vindictive fucker decided he was going to have a feast while we went swimming.

Just. Because.

He literally had at least two other opportunities to not only eat the remaining pizza crusts, but to just EAT THE PIZZA WE MADE. And he didn't.

But somehow, going to the pool without Winston Churchill was the last fucking straw for that monster.

So. He consumed two entire pizzas crusts, which is more pizza than a normal human being can eat.

And today, in proper style, he turned into a shit-beast. Because that's what you do, when you're a dog, eating half your body weight in pizza crust. You shit it all out like hot lava.

Thank you, Mr. Winston Churchill. Our lives, (and our yard), will never be the same.

-Stef