Great. They're home.

Hi there, it's me: Moshes

I mean, crap, man, I was more excited than anyone for the guys to get home from Greece. It had been 3 months, you know. Excited, that is, until I saw what they brought with them.

Please! They say her name is Fyllo (like the dough, but also like "friend," as though anyone needs a friend like that). They found her in a trash heap on some God-forsaken road in Volos, along with a pile of brothers and sisters. Eight in all, to be exact.

Setting aside the obvious question as to why in the world they would want an inbred trash heap puppy to begin with, why this particular one? They say, "Look at her white nose spot!"

I say, "Look at how she resembles a possom!" They say she has a great disposition, that she is attentive and relatively mellow (for a puppy). I say, "Half possom, half skunk, and half raccoon!" They say that on the morning they went to make their final choice, she was the first to wake up and look at them.

And that's that. Weren't they tempted by her little black brother asleep on the ratty teddy bear?

Sure, kind of, but the decision had been made. And without a second thought as to how this might sit with yours truly, they tore her from her family

never to see her roly siblings or long-suffering, vigilant mama again. The loving mama who had raised and protected them all for nine long weeks on the wintry streets of Volos.

Eight hours later, they're on a four-hour bus ride with all their belongings to the Athens airport (I find some pleasure in the fact that the bus driver made her ride below with the suitcases).

Why in the world the airlines let her on board or customs let her in America-for-Americans, I'll never know. "Oh, she's so cute!" they all said. What about, "Oh, where's her papers?!" Anyway…After nearly 32 hours of being stuffed in her lunchbox kennel crate, behaving "like a perfect little angel," they got to US soil and rented a car

And then drove another 12 hours north to Idaho to get me, happy as a lark at Kamp Karlson but also so so so excited to see them, the Benedict Arnolds. Arriving at my doorstep with the smell of another puppy on their cuffs, can you imagine? Me, me, play with me! But no, it's always, "Oh, look, she's a roast chicken!"

or "Oh my gosh, she's sleeping with her tongue out!"

BIG FAT WHOOP. From what I can tell, all she does is sleep and chew on stuff. Wrong stuff. Bad stuff. Clearly she's a reprobate. She's nowhere near as beautiful as some other puppies in the family (ahem), and can she run like a lightening rocket?

I think not. And who do we have to thank for all this? Some friend of theirs named Dimitra they met at the university in Greece.

It was SHE who helped that trashy mother dog (where's the family planning?) raise her social parasite street pups by bringing them milk and food. It was SHE who lured the guys into going and looking at those little demon pups, only to fall under their smelly spell. Can you say conspiracy? They tell me it'll turn out all right in the end. Someone to play with wouldn't be bad, I guess. Like a sister, I mean. She is a good sleeper, I'll give her that.

If only she'd stop hoarding all my toys. Moshimatic, over and out.