Please... do come in.

Rotund animals are, for me, one of life's simple pleasures. This fine specimen makes his home at the local zoo. The prairie dog display is a small open pit where the little guys alternately scurry in and out of their holes and sit on their giant round bottoms. It's like a little Coloseum, where we zoo visitors are the spectators -- only in a nice way, a way that validates and encourages their adorable existence.

Another one, for your viewing pleasure:


Here two prairie dogs were having a dialogue. They were either saying, "Okay, we'll just sit here as if nothing is new with the world, and then when they least expect it we'll let out these urgent high pitch chattery screeches that will scare the bejesus out of them because they thought prairie dogs were one of those animals without vocal cords, like zebras," OR the one in the back is saying to the one in the front, "You should stand in front of me for the picture because you're the skinny one and I don't want my butt to show."

I love you forever... or until you take a dump on me

Jackie loves animals, or "aminals" as he still calls them. On a walk by the Wisconsin River he found a caterpillar, pictured on his sleeve.

"I love you caterpillar, forever and ever," he professed, patting it gently. "You are so fuzzy and awesome."

He brought it to a nearby playground. He brought in the car on the way home.

Then suddenly I heard, "Eewww!" from the back seat.

"Lookit!" he said, holding up his chubby index finger to reveal a little brown blob.

"It pooped on you," I said. "We'll wipe it off when we get home."

A moment later he announced, "I threw my caterpillar out the window."

"That wasn't very nice. I thought you loved him."

"Yeah, but he pooped on me."

"That's what animals do. They poop wherever they want."

"Well, he didn't have to do it on me."