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As you can see, when we have human visitors, we have to re-arrange things, because the Huskies get all over the chairs.
The big one in the front is called Pal. The day Tim got Pal, we were in the airport, with three big bloody bags full of stuff (including me), and Tim just grabs Pal, about 5 minutes before the plane's going to leave, and tries to take him on as hand-luggage. The stewardess lets Pal on, but he has to ride in an empty seat, and wear a seat-belt! So there's Tim sitting there, with some guy in the window seat, and Pal in between them, buckled into the middle seat. Meanwhile me and the others are downstairs in the %$#^%*%!#! cargo-hold. Well, it's ok, he couldn't help it... I suppose. Ok, he couldn't help it. I still love him. I love him more than you do, BTW, and don't get any ideas about him, either. I'm not kidding, here. Do I look like I'm kidding? Find a picture with me in it, and check.
