Hey, Charlie? What's up, Claire? Do you think that all dogs go to heaven? Why do you ALWAYS wait until the lights go out to start these out-of-nowhere discussions? Of course I don't think that all dogs go to heaven. That's what I thought I heard you say; don't let Titus hear it. He has a hard enough time understanding your theological meanderings without you throwing this one at him. On what do you base…

I have to make one thing perfectly clear: regardless of what Charlie might think, the characters in this song are strictly fictional, and are in no way representative of actual inmates of the Casa del Whackos. (Neighborhood of G, fellas) She's a beautiful big black baby And people think she's such a lady But the things she does in bed are just so wrong I realize it doesn't matter That it makes me madder than…

Dad here: my grandfather had a saying: "I would rather sleep with a wet dog than a guilty conscience"; As it's a cold, rainy Sunday morning at the Casa del Whackos, I get the two for one special, except the dog is plural, not singular. All of the inmates have been out, then back in, then out, and back inside again, the fanning of the back door blurring the fine line between inside and outside.…

As we approach the sixth anniversary of Charlie's ascension to the throne at the Casa del Whackos, the sense of time passing us by feels a bit more acrid. Time is like toilet paper, as it seems to go faster towards the end of the roll. And what a roll it has been, and we're not done yet. Tonight, mom turned in early and I was left alone to fend for myself against the canine…

We have a conundrum. It's been almost six years since Charlie began posting on Facebook. We saw a need for an non-Hallmarky, non-politicky oasis in a desert of constant negativity, and so her blog was created. But as the stories of the Casa are often chronological, we began having issues with FB moving things around, or even followers of the page not getting updates at all and losing track of the story line. It is…

Evidently, Mr Stubb doesn't have much faith in the stability of the Federal Reserve, so he has decided to introduce a new form of currency to the Casa del Whackos... But first, who is Mr Stubb? He is a stocky red mutt that just showed up in the company of the neighbor's dog, Toby, and quietly infiltrated to the inner sanctum of the Casa. Like most that show up here, he is a rough case;…

Dad here; typical early January Sunday morning at the Casa. Cold and rainy outside, the dogs have all reclaimed their respective positions inside on the bed, with the exception of Mr Stubb. For some reason, he has never shown much interest in staking his claim under the covers, instead choosing to serenade me with his snores wafting up from his position on the floor. Just as professional practical jokers usually avoid April Fool's Day as…