I don't think we realized how sick Barney had actually gotten. He's been getting healthier and healthier as the days go by, and I think he actually must have been pretty sick already when we brought him home from the pound.

Every time I think he's reached his upper limit on how much more active he's going to get, he just gets a little more hyper and exceeds my expectations. Yesterday he was bounding across the couch pouncing on imaginary things in my and Sarah's laps. This morning he was chasing me (and catching me) as I sprinted around the potted plants in the backyard.

Then came this afternoon, when he became a teenager. As I was trying to get some work done for school, I noticed that he was fiddling with the stuffed moose that he brought home from the shelter (they said it was his favorite toy). He kept chewing on it's legs, pulling at its ears, and wrestling with it. After a while, I looked closer. Wrestling? Or humping?

Favorite toy indeed. New euphemism: "humping the moose". It'll catch on, you watch.