This the Yarn Bandit. He is hiding a slimy, mushy hunk of rawhide in the sofa cushions. YB is not allowed on this sofa. He doesn't care. Also, he never retrieves anything he hides in the sofa. However, if he sees me retrieve a hidden treasure from the sofa, he gives me a heartbreaking look of betrayal. Too bad. My brain is larger, I have opposable thumbs, and I don't like to sit on slimy, mushy, hunks of rawhide. 
This is Gentle Kirby. He's afraid of the garbage truck. Also, the wind. Also, mailboxes, strangers, and many, many other things. GK hides under the bed when he is afraid, but he isn't very good at it.
The astute reader will have noted the white on the ends of their tails. That's right. Hounds. Good for you.
GK and YB are rescue dogs. They are good boys, but they have issues.
This is The Man. That's right. No picture of The Man. He doesn't want to be mocked. Fair enough. He can remain anonymous. But he lives here too.
The Boys, The Man, and The Bunny live in Suburbia, Inside the Beltway, South of the Potomac. The Bunny and The Man are both lawyers for Uncle Sam. He works at the Great Big Department of Bureaus. I work at the Teeny Tiny Government Entity. When we aren't being lazy and/or misanthropic, we ride the tin can through the tunnels into Our Nation's Capital. We watch a lot of TV. I knit. He follows politics on the Web so he can get good and worked up over the latest outrage. We both cuss a lot.
You betcha. It's an exciting life here in Suburbia. The best part is that we have just spent 1.8 billion dollars on landscaping which means:
- I can spend more time sitting on my ass, only outside.
- I get to spend more money on bug spray and suncreen, to protect my Celtic complexion from the outdoors, where I am now doing more ass-sitting.
- I am so much in debt that I can't quit my job.
I've asked my parents for money, but they think I'm kidding. I'm not kidding. Send money.
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