Talks Too Much

Doesn't he just look like he's got something to say?
(This picture was taken last summer... when we blissfully spent most of our time lounging on the patio.)

He may not be able to speak, but rest assured Riley finds a way to get his point across to me if he wants something. There are moments, though, when I look at this crazy dog and wonder what in the world is going through his mind.

For example, why is it that for the 45 seconds it takes to brush him each night he freaks out and sounds like I'm torturing him as he bites at the brush, but he'll sit on the counter for 45 minutes perfectly silent, still and calm while I come at him with a scissors to cut his hair?

In case you've ever wondered, this is how much hair I have to cut off my dog every two months:

And in case you're curious, this is how cute he looks afterward:

And because I can read his mind, this is his look when he's trying to say, "Whatchu talkin' about Willis?" (He calls me Willis sometimes. He's weird like that. And if you don't know who Willis is, then you're not old enough to read this blog):

As for me, I've never really been accused of holding my tongue or being the quiet type. And I wish so much that my mom would have kept all of my report cards from when I was in school, because I'm now convinced that those comments teachers leave on the back of report cards are actually predictions for the rest of the students' lives.

Mine always said the same thing every year:

1. Sara is a joy to have in class.
2. She talks too much.

Yep. That's pretty much been my life in a nutshell. I'm a joyful talker.