I have to confess that I'm saddled with a bit o' melancholy lately. My friend Kevin died one year ago today. When I booked my upcoming trip to DC, I momentarily had the thought that I needed to let Kevin know I'll be in town. How I wish I could meet him for one last "girls' night out."
In other news, I no longer have my foster dog, Tucker. After trying several failed treatment paths, we (the rescue as a whole) decided to go for the BARF diet for Tucker. As a vegetarian, I have a tough time grinding up bones and stuff, so I passed him to a volunteer who is a carnivore and who has had good luck in treating colitis-ridden dogs in the past. What I ended up with instead of Tucker: a puppy (AKA "spawn of Satan"). She spends her spare time chewing my daughter's hair (while it is still attached to A's head), peeing on the rug, and gnawing on human flesh with the wee little daggers masquerading as teeth in her mouth. Oy, I'm getting too old for this schtuff.