Innocence

My dog can't help it that she's the cutest thing ever.

(You can't see it in this picture, but she's watching these two little girls from our complex who were out in the backyard playing. They were running around getting their Sunday dressess very muddy, and at this point the one was twirling around so that her skirt was floating out around her and, oh, it was just heartbreakingly cute.)

It's very lucky for her that she is, though.

Someone, and I'm not pointing any fingers, here, took herself for a walk around the apatment complex this morning.

She thinks this is a fun thing to do. Although, it's apparently only fun if I chase her. And my dog is part greyhound and has four wheel drive, whereas I'm fat and have a tendency to spontaneously fall down. So guess who usually wins.

She hadn't done this so far in North Carolina, though. I mean, I've given her very rare opportunities to do so anyway, but the few times I've let her go off leash, say, from the back of the car to the waiting front door, she's been very good. Today, though, I was sitting on the back porch, having just clipped her out there while I took the trash out, and I took her off the tie-out line, thinking, we'll sit here for a moment, I'll rub her head, we'll go inside. She had other ideas and bolted down the hill.

Some day, I'm going to learn my lesson, and just go back inside the house. Because if I don't chase her, it isn't fun. And she always comes home, usually pretty quickly. But, I get worried, 'cause, she's my dog. And I love my dawwwg (Penguinshrink, that was for you).

(For those of you who aren't Penguinshrink, remember the kid I treated on the medical unit at State Hospital with the broken jaw? PS and I used to call him "Timmy," which you have to say like the kid from South Park. He left the two of us with a number of catch phrases. Not the least of which was that he used to call his dad like fourteen times a day and he'd always say - to his dad - "I love my daaaad". Another Timmy-ism? "I'm-a go pee in the toilet now." Yeah, he was like my age.)

I do love my pup, big, goofy mutt that she is. Long story short, I did finally catch her. Because she let me. And then I picked her up and slung her up onto my shoulder and carried her home, because of course I didn't grab the leash on my way out. We got a couple of really amused looks, me, hauling this 45 pound dog around like some big furry todder.

In other news, I finally get to go back to work tomorrow. I start on the Crisis unit (adult acute stabilization. So, like, when someone you know has to go spend a couple of days on the psych ward) instead of the psychotic disorders unit, where I was supposed to be this month (I'll do crisis this month and then two months of psychotic instead of two months of psychotic and then a month of crisis). It's busy and hectic, from what I hear. But I'm really excited to go back to work, honestly And then of course, I'll be gone Thursday and Friday because I have to be back in Chicago in court. But then, then, I get two solid weeks of work and normalcy before I switch services again. Oy...