We are fortunate to have a good-sized mud room. It’s large enough to hold coats, hats, gloves, three bicycles, two cabinets (one w/ toys/sporting equipment and one with paper), a printing press (long story), and a small table. There’s also room for two wet and/or muddy dogs to hang out and dry off. I think I’ve finally figured out what the dogs talk about when they’re hanging out in the mud room. Just to give you a visual:

This is Juno

 

 

 

 

 

And this is Mason

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mason: Why do we have to stay out here?

Juno: You have to stay out here because you’re a slob who can’t stay out of puddles. I’m being punished simply because we’re the same species.

Mason: Do you think she’ll give us a treat?

Juno: Perhaps. If you don’t chew on anybody’s boots.

Mason: Mmm.. boots. They smell like our people.

Juno: Get That Out Of Your Mouth.

Mason: I love our people.

Juno: Me too. It’s awfully quiet in there. I hope she’s okay.

Mason: Maybe she’ll give us a treat when we come in.

Juno: Not if you don’t get that out of your mouth. Have some dignity.

Mason: I really love things that smell like our people.

Juno: What’s that noise? It sounds like somebody’s screaming. Is she okay?

Mason: I think that’s the tea kettle. The whistle hurts my ears.

Juno: If I were in there, I could help her. I could herd that motherfucking tea kettle into next week if she’d only let me.

Mason: Have they ever given us tea? I’m pretty sure I’d like it.

Juno: Would you be quiet? I’m trying to listen. Dammit, how can I keep an eye on the house when I’m stuck in here with you?

Mason: Sorry.

Juno: And stop that incessant licking.

[The door opens.]

Me: Okay puppies, I think you’re dry. Come on.

Juno: Oh thank Dog.

Mason: Do you think she’s gonna give us a treat?