It certainly wasn’t the wiener dog, whose house Sherbert was invading. Sherbert barely offered a sniff in the little dog’s direction…except to eat half of the other dog’s bowl of food.
And she was bolstered throughout the night by other means: more bits of bun then I care to imagine, minute-long hugs from one of the little boys, and a million offerings to carry Sherbert wherever she wished to go.
But either way Sherbert returned from the BBQ exhausted and somehow limping. She fell into her mushroom bed without even deigning to beg for a ride up to the real bed. And that’s where these pictures were taken at Noon the following day…visions of chicken apple sausages dancing in her head.