Taking a cue from the P's, I left Briter and his other brothers under the care of The B-Man while I'm in RNO watching the P's dog. Sometimes you just have to get away from the kids.

I call The B-Man every day to see how he's doing and I always ask about Briter. Oh, that crazy monkey and his shenanigans. So, the last few times I've asked to speak to Briter, The B-Man's been all evasive. "He's indisposed." "He's playing in the kitchen sink cabinet again." "I think I saw him kissing the pit bull next door." He wouldn't put Briter on the phone. Or, maybe, he couldn't put Briter on the phone. Because he's not even there.

britermilk.jpgThis morning, while eating my cereal, I ran across this on the back of my milk carton. I was so surprised I spit Froot Loops everywhere. Could that be my Briter? Oh Lord, I hope not. I'd hate to lose both Briter and The B-Man— whom I'm going to kill if Briter's not home by the time I get back.

When I called The B-Man to ask about the picture, he said he couldn't hear me and I was breaking up. Then, the line went dead. Now, he's not answering the phone.

I'll keep you updated.

*** UPDATE! ***

The B-Man sent me an e-mail today updating the current status of Briter:

You might as well know, Briter called…he’s hitchhiked up to Guerneville with some biker dude, and mumbled something about getting tattoos like his mom and one with a (burning ape?)…I couldn’t say much with that dang NevadaGirl just getting one and all, so I told him to be careful and hurry back…and to stay away from the backwoods at Fifes…crazy little yardape for cripes sake now…he said he would get home right after the rave this weekend. He has your cell # in case of emergency. I’m washing my hands of the whole ugly mess. You handle it.

Yes, I love The B-Man but I wish he'd start exercising even the smallest amount of discipline, otherwise, Briter's going to grow up to be a hell-raising cowboy just like him.

Jeez, I leave home for two weeks and everything falls apart.

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