The Boy...

The Boy and I spend many hours outside working on our tans. [Yes, of course we both use sunscreen!] All I have to say is, "Come on, Handsome. Let's go outside and work on our tan!" And he trots behind me and heads for his "chaise" which I move around the yard for him so that he can get full-sun and an "even tan." [Look! No tan lines!]

I'm sure its not easy being The Boy, enduring this:

And when he's tired out from a full day after long walks, playing with ropes, balls, squeaky toys and working on his tan, he's got this:

[I make all the cushion covers for his crate, as well as for the "bumper pads." I didn't make the pillow, though.]

And yes, The Baby has a crate as well, but she uses it only when she absolutely has to - like when people come to work in the house for some reason - she is of the mindset that her crate is punishment of some sort, whereas The Boy absolutely luvs his and believes it is his safe place - I can't get to him to give him eye-drops or allergy pills [ha! yes, I can, and the crate actually makes it easier] or wash his face or do something terrible to him to torture him [which I suspect he thinks I do far too often!].