Perfect little angels

We knew someone important was coming for a visit when the housework commenced.
The carpets got shampooed. The ceilings got dusted. The clutter got gone. And even our sunroom got a sweepen and scrub down.
“Maybe it’s the Pope,” Lexie wondered.
“Maybe it’s the Queen,” Duchess wondered.
“Maybe it’s Cesar Millan finally coming to use his mojo on our dysfunctional pet family,” I wondered.
Turns out all three of us were wrong. But it was still some VIPs.
Cheryl hosted her prayer group from church at our house.
“My guess was the closest,” Lexie bragged.
The prayer people started arriving shortly before 7 Tuesday night.
Wes and Duchess were banished to the back bedroom with strict “NO BARK” instructions from Cheryl.
Lexie and I were allowed to hang out in our room as long as we were “Sweet little angels.” Translation: Don’t bark. Don’t jump on the door. And for heaven’s sake don’t sniff anything you shouldn’t sniff.
The only thing left to do was take a nap, which we did.
After the praying was over the people moved into the dining room to eat, which good Baptists do. As Cheryl served blueberry dump cake (we helped pick the blueberries from our backyard bushes) and lemonade, we continued to be sweet little angels -- it really was too hot to do anything else.
Besides one little peep from Duchess and a pesky fly, that probably only Cheryl noticed, the prayer meeting went smoothly.
After it was over, Cheryl commended us for our behavior and allowed things to return to normal, as will be the case until the next VIP visit.