Two more things:

I smell like oatmeal. Three oatmeal baths, so far (and I'm supposed to do three a day), and I smell like a cookie (without cinnamon and raisins). Jane, MFJ, said to me this morning, "Watch yourself around a Scottish man. You'll get licked."

And don't tell me that dogs live in the damn moment. I kicked Abby off the bed last night shortly after she hopped up and snuggling up behind Dwayne's bent legs. Sometimes she lies in between us in such a way that neither of us even knows she's there but lately, she's been rolling around a lot and snuggling up and that wakes me; trying to roll over with a 50-pound dog on my legs wakes me!
So I told her to get off and sleep with her big sister on the couch. I covered the two dogs up with their afghan and slept fine until the cat wanted out at 4:30 am.
When I got up an hour later to make my tea and do some yoga (prior to oatmeal bath #1), Abby was giving me the pissed-off face. She wasn't happy to see me (Stella has adopted a constant "Whatever." attitude unless what you want her to do involves a drive to Tim Horton's for a Timbit.
So even though "experts" say dogs don't hang onto the past and don't hold grudges, Abby appeared to be mad at me.
She can be mad all she wants; I'm still the boss and I'm the one that feeds her. Funny how the hairy-eyeball disappeared when the dog dish appeared on the counter.