"What kind of bomb can you make out of pudding?"

Apparently they confiscated Rachel's vanilla pudding pack at the Newark airport. Which is why she posed the above question to me. So I Googled it tonight. There was an interesting suggestion, but no actual bombs made of pudding. Although apparently this is a somewhat common problem.

So Mags and I are home. HOME. There's one dog and our own brand of messy and not nearly as many bugs. It's good to be home. You know, so we can start packing, because we move in six weeks (guess I ought to book some movers...).

Call itself wasn't too bad. But then I get home. And I notice that Mazel's ear looked weird, so I start fussing with it, and he's growling, and he nips me. On the hand, didn't break the skin, and you know, I take full responsibility for that one. He growled, I kept fussing, okay, fine.

And then I noticed a puncture wound on Maggie's foot. They must've gotten into it while I was on call last night. So I tried to avoid his ears, fine, whatever. But then I'm lying on the bed petting him, his tail's wagging, all's well, and he goes all Cujo all of a sudden and nips me in the face.

Great view of the bags under my eyes, too, huh? And that was after my nap. It's not bad. And Maggie's paw isn't too horrible, either.

She took a good chunk out of Mazel, though, according to Rachel, who actually managed to look at his ear without a muzzle.

Mags and I are similar in a lot of ways. One of which being, we're both relatively laissez-faire, both generally adaptable and clever and will try to find a sneaky creative solution to a problem rather than being confrontational. And both of us will take a lot of shit, but, if you back us into a corner, if you force it, we'll take a piece of you. And my girl's a shelter pup. She's from the streets, man. She's from the south side (of the suburbs, but, nonetheless).

Lesson? Don't fuck with us.

Or at least, don't fuck with us past a point. And we'll usually growl at you and give you ample warning. We don't just go for the jugular when you're being nice to us.

Anyway.

So then after doing the dishes and packing and feeding everyone and messing with a bunch of other stuff (I got three hours of call room quality sleep last night, so of course I would be running around fussing instead of, you know, napping), we Furminated.

We Furminated the crap out of Jake. Leos apparently molt once a year, and he had a lot of winter undercoat that needed to come out.

Jake, before:

Jake, after.



Wow, that was satisfying.

Anyway. We went and picked Rachel up at the airport, got her tucked in, and then it was way too late by then to go home and drop Maggie off and still make it back to my shrink's office which is five minutes from Rachel's. So Maggie got to come to therapy with me today! I offered to reschedule, but, what can I say? I have the best shrink ever.

I think Maggie feels better, too.