I know, I know, there is no Chuck component to this photo. But that dog knows I’m pregnant and is so scared by what it means that he usually leaves the room when I enter. And Monday night after I had been gone for a day he was so agonized by my absence and what that might signify that he pooped all over the kitchen floor, something he has never done in his seven long years of life. So you’ll have to settle for Coco in this photo, although come on. Look at those markings. Doesn’t she look like a chocolate sundae topped with caramel syrup? Or is that my pregnancy brain?
