Rogue and Preacher are actually obsessed with eachother. They bite one another’s face between 5-8pm because that seems fun, then cuddle until morning. Preacher is finally coordinated enough to run so he tries to catch Rogue in the yard, which is cute because even a full grown Doberman can’t catch Rogue. I was so worried after Riot passed Rogue wouldn’t have another Doberman that he loved so much, but I think Preacher has started to fit the bill. He likes this little knucklehead a lot.

Preacher, almost 6 months old. His ears are perfect, that’s a first for us. He’s the easiest Doberman puppy I’ve ever owned, mostly thanks to Rogue bearing the brunt of teething and I think showing him we don’t destroy stuff. He’s a hoarder, gathers all my socks and Ben’s shoes, doesn’t really do anything with them, but likes creating piles of his treasures. He’s a tall gangly teenager testing out his big boy voice. I’m still his protector when Ben’s away but I know he’ll get there. He’s still such a cute snuggly size, this only lasts a minute with his breed.

Was kindly watching Justice League in our media room, dogs were being a bit interruptive, jumping off and on the couch. Not too peculiar. Then I heard Rogue sniffing too loudly. Looked down, ah just Preachers toy, so cute. Back to the movie. Preacher now cares about this loud sniffing game and it’s disrupting my movie. I turn on the lights, it’s an opossum. He looks dead but I’m skilled with these little turds so I blew on him and his ears twitched. Super alive opossum well into my house. Long story short, I made Ben remove the super convincing “dead” opossum and I’m deeply disappointed with all my pets. My cat probably brought it in and my dogs were too invested in a DC movie. And Mark is just too sleepy to be annoyed by his nonsense.

I’m officially a Wierzba today! Took me 7 plus years to change my name, was waiting until everything expired, my license, passport, government ID. Once Covid hit I forgot about it. Ben drives me everywhere in Georgia and we haven’t left the country since Africa and Dubai. Didn’t even notice my passport expired over a year ago. I’m a legit human citizen in America again. If my military ID expired in the next 4 days I’d basically cease to exist, I think. Today was unbelievably fortunate in our favor. My dogs had more registration compared to me at this point. Who on earth carries around their birth certificate or gets bills with their name and address on them?

Dogs, cat I don’t know at this point. They’re on a murder spree. I watched Preacher eat an entire baby squirrel I’m sure Mark brought in. Rogue brought in the same opossum, twice. Preacher tried to eat an entire mouse (Ben calls them that so field rat doesn’t hurt my brain so much.) Then this little opossum graced my doorway. Donned my Kevlar gloves, blew into his face a few times to see if he was alive. Yup, the blinky just woke out of his dormant state, now you can see his goblin teeth and deal with that death smell reserved for predators.

Tried to talk him out of it as I carried him across the street to a nice bush to start his new life in. “You made some bad choices, you should have seen the cat, it’s not your fault, you seem resilient, good luck man.”

Also, let me take a minute to talk to you about rescuing local dogs and cats…

I don’t meal prep, but I do road trip prep with gusto! When you’re married to an easily hangry husband who will make 12 stops because he needs snacks you pack ahead. We’ve got tortilla wraps I will slice into convenient not life threatening driving bites in the morning (low carb tortillas with a cream cheese Ranch seasoning, chopped orange pepper and onions, turkey and ham), ham steak chopped into sticks with cubes of Monterey Jack, Extra sharp cheddar, Swiss and some blow your pants out habanero Jack cheese I’m sure I’ll regret. Hard boiled eggs (didn’t want them to expire) that I peeled like an impatient ape. So many sauces because I like making sauces as much as girls like shoes. We’re all set! I swear if I forget my yellow mustard I’m hitchhiking home.

This is the nicest, sweetest, most well behaved Doberman I have ever owned. Thank God, because this little angel faced tiniest Italian Greyhound I’ve ever owned is the meanest, boss baby, terror. He’s super “aggressive” (tries to be at least, he’s so small it’s a joke, preacher barely registers any of his tiny puppy hostility) but he’s so mean! I thought Rogue was a boss baby but Pope is a mob boss in some clandestine Valdosta syndicate.

Oh Mark, what have you done with your life? We’ve given you the liberty to be an outdoor cat and yet you choose to live a privileged cushy indoor lifestyle. Somehow you still manage to hunt, thanks for the tiny squirrel last week (it lived, he doesn’t really murder what he brings in, just thinking he’s testing out new roommates). Anyway, you’re kind of taking extra “winter weight” to the extreme. Get it together bro.

Mark brought in a little squirrel friend he forgot to tell us about. I was in the laundry room and a furry fat blob scurried under the dog food bin. Scootered my way out and tucked a blanket under the door until Ben got home.

Sorry we evicted your friend Mark.
Though I suspect he doesn’t care.

This chaise lounge in our bedroom has pretty much been our Dobermans (past and present) night time dog bed in our room for a decade. Well looky looky who thinks he runs the place now. First time I’ve ever seen him here. Mark is at boss level.