Can you believe this?

We're heading off for a week in New York tomorrow. The thing is, New York isn't like Tucson. People dress, in New York. Your shoes are meant to match your bag and all that. (Which is one of the many reasons why I don't live in New York) And I'm meeting my rich brother (whom I only see every decade or so) for dinner, and I don't want him to be ashamed of me. So having given the old wardrobe a lot of thought, I actually made one of those this-goes-with-that lists and started ironing things and packing them yesterday.

Of course, Bao knows what's going on. He's already figured out that the little blue bag means we're going to Mexico. Ho hum. But the red bag on wheels, that's something else. Airplanes, hotels, lots of interesting new smells. Last week's trip to Florida -- for instance -- was a red-bagger. But you know what? Last week, I was so preoccupied with Morag and the whole Florida thing that I forgot to pack any of Bao's toys.

So this time, decided to take things into his own hands. Or paws. Or jaws.

When I got up this morning, I found that Bao had completed his own packing. As you can see, he's basically transferred the contents of his toy basket to my suitcase. And a stinky bone, for good measure. And just in case you're wondering, No. I am not taking 17 stuffed animals to New York. Pink Pig and that's it. End of discussion. I mean, Who's the leader of this pack? What would Cesar Milan say?