Release the hounds

I'd like to expose the world to my mutts.  Their names are Sandy and Mojo. They are total weirdos.  Sandy showed up at our house just a few days before a major ice storm and I had to take her in.  She's so sweet and I couldn't leave a sweet little doggie out in the cold with icicles hanging off of her.  We claimed her, not knowing that she was pregnant and would soon give birth to 6 puppies, one of which was Mojo.

They run around the spread doing God knows what, but they always come home and make sure to talk to us and smile at us a little.  And, yes, they talk and smile, although Sandy is a bit more vocal and a little smilier.  That's a word, right?  Now it is.

This is Sandy with my daughter, ready to herd her if she needs to:

Here is little puppy Mojo.  She's so tiny and cute and soft!

Here's Mojo now:

3 years old and a total freakazoid!  I never know what dead animal is going to show up in my yard, when my wrists are going to get gnawed on for stopping the belly rub or paying attention to Sandy, or even when she will bolt up out of her sleep to take off like a bullet after something in the pasture.  My dogs are quite the source of entertainment.