On Saturday, Thor took his people shopping for their Christmas tree. The tree farm is one of the few intelligent, dog friendly stores around. Hmph. Why would anyone not want Thor to come to their store, anyway? It's one of life's great mysteries.
The first order of business was to get his harness on. It must have shrunk in the wash. Or else people are sabotaging Thor's "pudgy puppy" diet. I won't speculate as to which it might be. (Notice my daughter wearing floral tights and little black flats to go to the farm. Sniff. I am so proud.)
There were some interesting smells to be found, and a lot of pee-mail to be left.
Time to scope out the Christmas trees in the barn, then off to see the ones outside. The boys were successful in not letting Thor "mark" any Christmas trees.
After enough romping, Thor sat down beside his littlest boy to wait for someone to pay for the tree. Then, back to the Suburban to ride home with the tree! I do have to confess that the usual b***hing, moaning and wailing about everyone getting into the Suburban, instead of taking 2 or 3 cars, did occur, but I held my ground, announcing, "You're all getting into the Suburban, dammit, and you're all going to be merry if it kills me!" Can you tell we've held this debate before?