All of them.
Years of picture memories, all of my children's childhood pictures... just gone.
I'm so sad.
I can't even begin to comprehend this.
Not much I can do except strap on my big girl boots and carry on. I still have a lot to catch up (thank goodness I got behind, it's all safe in my email archives), but a lesson learned to start printing the blog on a yearly basis so we will always have a hard copy of our pictures.
So to carry on.
Here's a cute puppy picture of Milo.
In fact, this can be a post about that Milo boy.
He's a pretty timid dog. He doesn't like the vacuum, or anything that makes noise, really. He'll slip out that dog door and sit on the back deck as soon as he gets any inclination that something uncomfortable (like vacuuming, or The Man with an empty wrapping paper roll) is about to go down. He has a bit of a hip problem that really becomes aggravated when he's too fat, which is often, so The Man built a ramp on top of the deck stairs so he can get up and down. We try and take care of him so he doesn't get overweight, but the boy likes to eat.
I can relate.
Milo prefers the next door neighbors to us.
They feed him. Left over meat pieces and rib bones and such. Our neighbor is a chef.
Milo think he's king of the world.
We call our neighbors "The Russians" because they're from Russia and their last name has to many consonants and not enough vowels for me to be able to remember it.
Milo is a sweetheart, even if he's a traitor. He's picked up some phrases in Russian, but most particularly, he's picked up on the word "treat" in Russian. Don't ask me what it is, The Russians don't offer me treats in Russian, just Milo. He'll sit in the front yard at the fence line and wait for The Russians to come outside. As soon as he sees them, all loyalty for us is out the window.
That's fine, Milo.
We see how you are.
