After yesterdays's Grand Adventure at the vet, it wasn't very long before the vet called to tell us that the lump in Rainie's belly is just a fatty too-mah. We're to watch it for unexpected growth but it's allegedly harmless. Phew.

Gus was mighty pissed that we left him at home alone, but when I got back with the merry band of hound dogs, he was snoozing away, face pressed up against the window, enjoying his bachelorhood.

Late last night, Zeus went outside, then promptly came back in, sneezing like a madman. Instantly concerned about foxtails, I got off my ass (yes, at like midnight, when I was pretty much exhausted from working all day then playing goalie at practice, where I once again managed to mangle my shoulder) and went outside to pull every foxtail in the backyard. Andrea came and helped, eventually I think we got them all.

For now I'll ignore the fact that pretty much all of the grass in the yard has died. It's really time to pave the thing over, as attractive as that would be.