I'm here in the bedroom with THAT DOG this morning. She and I are recuperating.
She's got the worst of it--yesterday morning she jumped into the car enthusiastically, expecting to go to the park or maybe even the beach. Instead she woke up seven hours later on the vet's recovery table with sutures in her ear and eye where weird growths had been removed, drugged in a way she hadn't experienced since we lived with the roommate who toked up every day after work (as I recall, THAT DOG had a particular fondness for him...)
She's still stoned this morning, looking up at me from time to time as if to say, "Dude! Wasssup???" In her natural state, THAT DOG rarely says "dude," but her recovery persona seems to skew towards Ashton Kutcher.
Me, I've got a run of the mill head cold that wiped my voice out minutes after the TV crew left our house on Tuesday. It was bizarre--I had functioning vocal chords, and then I didn't. Things are better today--just a little foggy--but not at all conducive to writing my first guest blog for the website Basil & Spice. So if you log on there next week and see a post about the spiritual connection one can find in a bottle of Tylenol Cold & Flu, please-- could you leave kind comments and email the head of the site to reassure her that I'm not usually like this?