A new puppy followed us home from the pumpkin patch and insists on making us scratch his floppy puppy ears

Tonight over dinner while I waited for Tylenol to take the edge off a migraine and counted the hours until I could go to sleep, I wondered how wrong it would be to flake out three days into NaBloPoMo. Then I realized I could just take the easy way out and show the internet a photo of our new puppy:

That's Bruno. He's a black lab with floppy black ears that likes to sleep smooshed in between my husband and I. My husband announced stopping off to maybe meet some new dogs on the way home from the pumpkin patch last weekend and I was all "Why not?" Because I live with the World's Most Annoying Dog and it couldn't possibly get any worse.

Bruno is our third dog. No really. We're the idiots with three dogs:

Ike's the Rottweiler. In the history of dogs, he's like the second best dog to ever live. And I only say "second best" because Ike hasn't found any kids that fell in a well yet. But there's still time.

Twister is the terrier. I think maybe we adopted him to keep Ike company. Instead, he mostly just tortures our existence by chewing on possessions that we love. He also likes to jump on you at the exact wrong moment and can out bed hog grown adults.

My husband calls Twister his sixteenth most favorite dog. Not because my husband has 16 other dogs that he loves but because he's leaving room for all the dogs he's had and all the dogs he knows he's going to have in the future and will no doubt find less annoying. He's not a bad dog. Okay, so maybe he is sometimes. Like the time he ate a fourth pair of size 10 pink Disney Crocs. But he's mostly just sort of frustrating. Like how it's frustrating to bang your head on a brick wall.

Bruno's the "Ike is getting older maybe Twister could use a playmate this is the dog Twister should have been and holy cow puppies are cute" dog. The day we brought him home my husband kept saying we wouldn't have three dogs for long. I'm not sure if he was planning to bump Twister off in the night or what but apparently Twister caught wind of something. Next thing you know, old Twister gave up chewing on couch cushions. Me thinks someone is feeling a little threatened. Me thinks that's not such a bad thing.

My husband says Twister just needed a playmate to help him wear off some energy. I think even a stupid dog can feel himself slide down the totem pole. I can't say that I blame him though. Floppy puppy ears are hard to compete with: