How long, O Lord, how long?

Tamaroa, our Taiwanese mountain dog urchin, we think has figured out that if he paws at the door long enough, snacks will come his way.  He's been suffering from tape worms and is hungry even more than a dog usually is.  That thought boggles the mind.  The pestacious little bugger and his mate Kona get snacks at night if they go out and relieve themselves when the house shuts down for the evening.  Tamaroa is trying to work that bolt to the nth degree right now.  He's staring out the sliding glass backdoor and pawing at it, then looking back at me.  He is coal black and tough to see against the outer darkness.  It ain't the end of the night, and I ain't letting him out.  He gets another biscuit if he does a little placer mining later on.  Other wise forget-

Aha!  He's finally gotten the clue.  I am not letting him out for the 38th time in the last half hour so he's slumped down on the floor to wait us out.  Good move, you pestiferous pi-dog!

Meantime in the background I hear my daughter telling her older brother to "Get your skinny butt outta here!" in reference to the bathroom where she's finishing drying off after her bath, and her brother saying, "I just saw myself in the mirror, and I'm so beautiful!"  Neither of them is ten years old yet.  Crikey!

What hath God wrought?

Dogs are the least of our concerns.  Certainly, these two dogs are the greatest despite their hijinks in service of goodies, which are not unlike the hijinks of their two human puppies, after all.