They reach right in and grab your heart in their tinsy little paws, naughty love bites to cement the deal, and the wee vixen pulls at the strings. It just came to me, you know, we are a pack, Pika Daemon Ninja Weasel and The Old Golden One named Irish and I.

Case in point, when a couple days ago the wee one got a lick or three of my potatoe salad and so when I came home from work the wuft of puppy poo was what met me as I opened the door after work. Once I’d released the hound from her new swanky crate, I saw she had diarrhea all over the floor of her new nylon crate. And puked a couple times after I let her out, and a couple more runny poos, and so when I headed for work at 8:30 the next morning, it was with some concern, and spent a good half hour in the back of the warehouse lactating that worry out of my eyes, down my cheeks.

That worry was unfounded, as when I came home after that 9 hour day, arriving home I had myself a gigantic surprise, as NEITHER of them had peed or poo’d the entire time. Like, wowzer knock me over with a feather, I was so proud of the both of them. Not to mention completely shocked. I expected Irish to pee in the kitchen, at the very least. But Pika not having diarrhea and being so good, I am one proud pack mama.

She makes me laugh, she keeps Irish, um, busy fending off attacks of lickings, and her demented fairy attacks, standing on her little bow’d hind legs, so she can look Irish right in the eye, the wee confident one. She is brash and sassy, turning her fruit bat head to the one side… wa?

I lift her up into my chair, and am greeted with nips and licks, and bites and wiggles and rubs of her little head, and giving me her best puppy dog eyes, bites me some more, and down we go ya wee daemon weasel, be gone, play with those pee pads I was so proud you were peeing on, that now in shreds all over the communal (now) dog blankie.

This blankie is where she deposits ALL her toys, this is where they go, and she plops her little butt down, often to spend some time annoying Irish, until The Golden One issues a noise that she quickly figured out meant bugger off ya wee nuisance.

And, back to ripping the pee pads to shreds.

Success’ follow losses, lessons learned, for each of the members of this newly formed pack.

The Old One, The Little One, and Me – a three pack.

Though, lately my role feels more like a glorified pee and poop cleaner upper.

But anywho, speaking of poop, the prez down yonder and his administration of sycophants and boot-lickers are finally being exposed to public view. Well, for those that don’t follow this thing as closely as I did, it was new. So new and revelatory that all my co-workers were talking about it, all my friends, even the political novices who know very little about what is going on down yonder in the land of my birth. Well, basically what THEY know, often, is what I tell them, which generally isn’t a lot since I know they could really give a rats arse.

Now that we can all hear, testimony after testimony, that many of rumpyturd’s toadies were well aware they were pushing a political policy, not a foreign policy. We can hear these experienced government employees testify to who knew what, as one after another expose the rot within, expose the extent of how deep this Russian narrative of Ukrainians being the culprit in the 2016 email theft, we see how far this fiction spread, how deep the rot was, how infiltrated into the mindset this was, and how fixated this incompetent boob was with an account that hinges on some rather contrived and shaky ground, yet conveniently, and satisfactorily dovetails rather nicely with that boobs apparent insecurity concerning his own election.

I mean, it is clear to most of us that he likes this story that the Ukrainians hated him and that they were behind the DNC email thang because it absolves him of just being what he actually is, Russia’s convenient idiot, a pawn in Putin’s plan to weaken the United States of America, to weaken the Ukrainians standing internationally, and to push these false narratives for their own benefit. Why exactly these GOP trumpettes defend that boob is beyond my own comprehension. I certainly don’t understand what they think they’re going to get out of it. Well, cept I suppose becoming a filthy rich Russian style Oligarch probably is somewhat attractive, so there’s that.

Dr. Fiona Hill made all that crystal clear, and this from one hell of a serious woman. I mean look at the natural set of her pencil thin lips, she is not some bimbette prone to emotional outbursts as Sondland tried to spin it. No, I imagine when she blows her stack it is for one hell of a damn good reason, and it is extraordinary to behold, due to its rarity, not to mention the superior command of the English language she has at her disposal. Just sayin’.

Yeah, a woman who at 11 had some boy set her hair on fire during a test, and put it out with her bare hands and went right back to taking the test? One can be fairly certain that young girl does not grow up to become a person whose ruled by her emotions. No, that sort of girl grows up to become someone who is the master of her emotions, and these incompetent men for whom she had served under are the ones who could learn a thing or three from HER.

Yes, it has been an illuminating week for quite a few reasons. One, that poop happens and not to become an emotional wreck, that this wee pup-a-roonie snuggled up beside me is a lot stronger than I gave her credit.

Oh, and I learned that pee pads are a thing, and quite frankly a wonderful thing, not to mention doubling as a play thing. Not sure if that last is actually a ‘good’ thing, but.

I learned that I should have more faith in the American system, that there are some real courageous and exceptionally competent patriots that stand by the oath they took to defend the constitution.

I also learned, or rather had confirmed, that the GOP and that trip down authoritarian lane à la Putin style they seem to have an affinity for is the very thing that may just destroy them. That some of them must be so deep in that they just can’t seem to see how exposed they are, and that the American people are not so keen on being thought of as pawns. If they don’t understand that at this point, then, well, their destruction will be all of their own making.

So ends another week of poop and the power of puppies, pawns and politics.