Not about beer, just fun. We were at my mother-in-law's over the weekend, up in Newark, NY. We took Penderyn along, my mother-in-law has a peppy young Springer Spaniel named Cooper, and Cathy's brother Curt, who's currently sharing the large house, has a very well-behaved older dog, Bailey. Penderyn and Cooper have always tussled; Cooper's an instigator, and Penderyn's happy to respond, and they tumble and FRAP and wrassle. Bailey's not so quick to join in, but when she does, she's very vocal, and since she is the biggest of the three, she can seem intimidating, even though she's a sweetheart by nature.
Anyway, Sunday afternoon we were hanging out, watching the kids play Guitar Hero, and the dogs got into a full-scale tumbling, barking, scrambling playfest, Bailey and Cooper snarling and grappling, Penderyn dashing around the edges and nipping in to grab a quick bite and running out, barking and leaping...and Thomas says, "Good God, it's like Christmas at Michael Vick's house." It was just too good a line not to share.
The picture is Penderyn on the way home, when he insisted on climbing up on top of my backpack in the backseat of the Passat, I assume so he could get a better view of the Finger Lakes countryside. Or maybe it's just a Welsh thing to climb, I dunno.