Folding Money That Has Come Unstove

This is a dollar bill that I found recently while on my morning walk.  It is either boob money or boy-pocket money as it bears the unmistakable hallmarks of legal paper tender that has been kept in the confines of a brassiere or the confines of the pocket of a boy child.  Both confines are historically and equally sweaty, and could render money into such a wrinkled state.  I haven’t been able to spend it yet.  It sits on my dresser, forcing me to ponder its provenance…

Dew Claw Askew

Booker is growing in a new dew claw.  BECAUSE HE ALMOST RIPPED THE OLD ONE COMPLETELY OUT LAST MONTH.  He was either chasing a cat or saying "Hi" to Mr. Smith, our backyard neighbor.  Whatever he did to do it, he was all running up to the door, acting like nothing was wrong, and then he stopped to lick the BLOOD THAT WAS POURING DOWN HIS DOG ANKLE (dankle?).  Nothing like coming home for lunch to grab a bit to eat, letting the dog out to potty and then ending up at the vet for minor surgery to remove a jankity dew claw.  Booker's favorite vet, Dr. Drummond-Rieger at Rainbow City Pet Clinic, fixed him right up and had him back to us by the end of the work day.  He was a little loopy from the anesthesia, and was wearing the cone of shame...

I can laugh about it now, but Lordy, we had quite a time with that pupperschnitzle while he was convalescing.  Couldn't allow him to get his bandages wet, so we had to tape a ziplock baggy on his foot each time we went out because we were in a stretch of rainy weather.  And because he couldn't really maneuver through the house well with the cone on his head, we would take it off while we were home and only put it on him when we left.  It was a good thing that Eric had begun his training of "Leave It" in the weeks prior to the accident.  We were able to get him to "Leave It" when we'd catch him biting the bandages.

D'oh!

Drunk

Dew breaking through.