No time, sore shoulder, but good news!

The Zoater's bloodwork came back normal. The only thing weird was an elevated level of monocytes which, Dr. Google reminds me, peak eight to fourteen days after inflammation or infection sets in (or something like that).

The vet sounded surprised: "It's really unusual that a dog his age would have such great numbers. But he's a good boy."

I think Max isn't sure what his name is any more. He went to a party the other night (I was invited but wasn't up to it) and got praises and belly-rubs and little bits of shrimp and perhaps a tiny sip of dark beer or two. When I wandered out back, he was surrounded by a bevy of beautiful babes, all telling him what a good, what a beautiful, what a sweet boy he is. I think he thinks his name is "Handsome" or "Gorgeous" or "Oh, hi there."

It bothers me not at all that my dog is invited to parties which I choose not to attend. He came back strutting, if dogs can strut, and slept like a log all night.

Don't stop with the good vibes, folks. If you can stand to add one more to your list in addition to the Zib-Nose Scronkle-Hound, there is a certain kitten in Colorado who needs a good home, having almost been left in a dumpster at a local Petco.

And thanks. People sometimes suck, but you guys certainly don't.