Helping the kids out of their coats
But wait the babies haven't been born oh
Unpacking the bags and setting up
And planting lilacs and buttercups oh

But in the meantime we've got it hard
Second floor living without a yard
It may be years until the day
My dreams will match up with my pay

Old dirt road,
(mushaboom, mushaboom)
knee deep snow
(mushaboom, mushaboom)
Watching the fire as we grow
(mushaboom, mushaboom)
o-o-o-o-old

She had just tip toed out of the shower.
I pretended not to be interested at any costs, nonchalantly wiping away eraser bits on my sketchpad and she seemed all too eager to throw clothes on over her progressively swelling body.
Her dampened white fur, already fluffing to a dry, was so adorably displaced around her curvy form from the towel and hair sloppily adorned in what could be called a bun gave her not only a sort of sexy thrown together look, a nice diversity to her usually prim composure.
Before I had time to blink, I saw her untangling a pair of panties from my boxers in the underwear drawer and I made my move.
"Oh, uh, Joe? Wait a second, honey."
She jolted midway through bending over to fit her footpaws through the elastic and looked over at me.
"Kinda' naked, kinda cold, Arrow." She snipped. I smiled apologetically.
"I know, dear. Could you just give me a second?" I jumped from the bed quickly and walked past the unpacked boxes over to her, pushing her toward the lumpy mattress.
"For what?" Joe whined, staggering her steps trying to stop, " oh, come on, you horn dog! I'm not in the mood for this of all things!"
I chuckled a little seeing how this could be misconstrued. "No, no, you sick woman. Just get on the bed and lemme get to a chair-"
Joe's mouth hung agape a little quickly realizing my intent- the sketchbook, the pencil, the hovering over the door and asking every two minutes when she'd be done...
"Arrow, you are not going to draw me, do you understand? I am hideous!"
I threw my head up from my sketchpad, brows and lower lip exaggeratedly pushed in my perfect "dog face".
"You are not hideous, dear!" I chided, almost queasy she'd think that of herself. "not to sound cliche but, you are a glowing apparition of pear shaped loveliness!"
"And you're a corn dog bastard. I'm not sitting here shivering cold with my gut hanging out just so your friends have something to jack off to later." She scoffed, trying to pull a sheet over to slide out of bed and into some clothes, I about let her go feeling a little insulted she didn't appreciate artistic nudes-
but that was it!
"WAIT. WAIT." I held up a paw pleadingly- her head whipped back at me, genuinely startled. The way she had tugged up the sheets just lightly covering but not leaving too much to the imagination, and her overall composure shaken, but not stirred-
it was perfect.
I threw together a few circles, lines and the basic outline of the piece and let my gorgeous model waddle her way to the dresser.

I surprised her with this a few days later. She was so surprised she cried, not thinking that she could ever be perceived in such a manner in such simplicity as getting out of the shower. These days had been hard on her- new crappy place, bulging out in places her lean form normally didn't- but as we said usually in our rougher days
"Mushaboom, mushaboom, my love"