I just discovered that Pigbard is now too fat for me to conviently lift with one hand. And he smells musky.
I have a fat 'n honry guinea beast.

The sun is eating my hair. Today, at least, I don't mind as much because for some reason, the sight of me with a bag on my head sent Pigbard into a treat-squeak frenzy. I guess the sight of me combined with the possibility that my head was made of produce just pushed him over the edge. He is munching spinach now.

Pigbard just gave Chris a hot carl and then Chris held up the poop and showed us. Young, virile Steve McQueen indeed.