Fright night at the doghouse

Living in our Robbinsdale neighborhood has its perks: 1) the little, old ladies who come around every few weeks to invite Linda and Stew to join their church are A LOT of fun to bark at... and 2) very few trick-or-treaters means more mini-candybars for me! What? Dogs can't eat chocolate? Since when? Prove it... I call bullroar! **
Alright, it seems Stew knows his way around this Internet-thing way too well, and he produced this link which would indicate that I should keep clear of those satisfying little Snicker bars: http://www.petshealth.com/dr_library/chocpois.html
So, I guess living in Robbinsdale isn't all it's cracked up to be, but maybe those little old ladies will come around this weekend to cheer me up. I could use a good barking spell. If not, I always have Claire. What a bundle of joy she has been for our family. Here she is posing in her little black cat and pumpkin outfit. When she gets older, I'll teach her about the evils of all shades of cats and that she shouldn't be prejudiced one way or another based solely on appearance. A cat should be measured by its merits (or lack thereof) and not by the color of its coat. However, striped cats are a whole other story... they cannot be trusted. Period. End of story.

** Bullroar, a very old expression meaning "hogwash".