For the first time in eight months, my dog has no odor. None.
It turns out Petsmart has hypo-allergenic shampoo. (Last time they used stinky shampoo.)
That is all. Photo to follow.
Note from the dog walking service yesterday: "He was great, as always. He looks real good in red. Went #2." (There were no hyperlinks in his note, of course.)
Sometimes the vignette on the ParkerCam makes me almost as happy as Parker. Like, seeing him just before the dog walker arrives:
But then there's a twinge when he's gone. At least he's happy:
And then he's back:
He loves the open office window. Not too many days of that left, though.
More from Saturday's Wright Way Rescue reunion: Schona, a 7-year-old Lab that Parker met:
At the Wright Way reunion on Saturday, the shelter had a number of puppies up for adoption, like this one:
Parker, like any teenager confronted with babies, seemed to show benign indifference:
(He wanted to see the grill instead. Go figure.)
Today is Parker Day: I adopted him a year ago today. 
Over the past year, Parker has wormed his way into just about every part of my life, for the simple reason that he doesn't have opposable thumbs and so can't open his own cans of dog food. He's grown from an adorable puppy into a mostly-adorable adult dog with a gentle nature and a taste for textiles.
He makes me happy every time I see him, even when he has bits of sofa hanging from his teeth, or has another case of worms. And he's always happy to see me, whether we've been apart for 10 seconds or 10 days. He trusts me completely. (I hope I never let him down.) Of course, he does annoying things all the time, but I still can’t get too mad at him. He can’t help it. As I was writing this he trotted off with a plastic bag that I had to retrieve. It was my fault, anyway; the thing was on the floor. This hints at the only real down-side to having a dog: the cost. Adding up walks ($1650), vet bills ($860), food ($750), boarding ($590), training ($425), and everything else, he costs about $450 a month. No college fund, though; and he's never outgrown any clothes. Eaten clothes, yes, but never outgrown them.
So what. He brings me joy, every day, even when I have to settle on the ParkerCam. And he'll probably bring me joy every day for the next 14 years. I hope so, anyway.
Coincidentally, today the rescue had its annual reunion up in Libertyville, so, naturally, we went. From a volunteer who remembered him, I found out some more information about his origins. For example, his name starts with "P" not because he was in the 16th litter the Wright Way Animal Rescue adopted out last year, but because he comes from Pomona, Ill. Also, it turns out, Parker’s mom had a second litter after Parker's, because the stupid owners didn't believe in spaying. That’s right, five more puppies the shelter took in, getting the owners to spay the dog only by threatening not to take them.
And along the way up to the reunion, we stopped by the Petco where I got him, to pick up a new collar and some poop bags. I think Parker looks good in red:
Parker and I were surprised last week to come home after work and discover this in the yard:
The neighbors were also surprised. And their landlord. And everyone connected with the operation except, perhaps, the roofing company, who only got the order the day before and started work without so much as a text message.
Note to small-business owners: It's one thing to provide speedy service, quite another to provide speedy, disruptive, destructive, unplanned service.
Old rug, old sock, sunbeam. Dog is happy:
Also, yesterday's note from the dog walking service made me feel almost as warm and fuzzy as Parker is:
He met a puppy and he was very gentle and patient. Very nice. (No #2)
That's my boy.
I'm not alone in the office today, but I may as well be: Parker is so tired he's not even getting up when I leave the room. Day camp works, I tell you.
I should also point out one of the not-so-hidden costs of having an office puppy. Or, rather, a black office puppy on a white cotton rug. Yes, the rug in the photo above used to be blue and white. Now it's blue-grey and grey. And he's chewed it so much it can't be cleaned any more. But I discovered a possible solution: A couple of my friends have two enormous Labradors and a three-year-old. In their newly-remodeled kitchen they have a patch of Flor, which seems to have held up to the onslaught pretty well.
However, until I'm more certain Parker won't destroy it out of ennui—yesterday morning he tried to disembowel my comforter again—I think I'll just keep the dingy carpet.