I don’t think that you’ve ever met our dog, Greta. She’s a brown dachshund, and she shares the same birthday as Abraham Lincoln, albeit 185 years after “Honest Abe” was born. But this is Greta, posing in the kitchen for a photo with my new digital camera. She’s six years old (that’s 42 in dog years, so you know), and she barks at anything that moves, and will eat anything that doesn’t and then puke. She’s a very good dog, though. Doesn’t chew anything up, and she doesn’t have any accidents in the house. In fact, she’s even “proper” enough not to go to the bathroom on her walks, and waits until she gets back home to relieve herself (where we sometimes unknowingly step in it). Still, Greta is the dog… what would we do without her? She’s cute, and she’s small enough to where Mom can pick her up and hold her in her arms.
