Well, here I am again, in my usual state of confusion and uncommon frustration. I'm using a new laptop that I had purchased, or more accurately will purchase when I get the bill from my son-in-law. I needed the laptop for the boat so I can download a GPS program that is more up to date than what I have now. Anyway, not only am I trying to get used to this new computer, I'm having issues with the internet. I know, I know, it's shocking. Somehow I managed to get one picture downloaded for this blog post. I don't know what I did to download it, and I don't know where the other ones are that I took. I'm sure they're floating around inside this black box, but I don't know the magic words to make them come out. Kind of like my brain when I'm searching for a word. Having a dictionary or thesaurus won't help at all if you don't know what word you want to use to begin with.
Some years back there was a movie called The Prince of Tides. I remember watching it, or part of it, but I couldn't tell you what it was about to save my soul. I did like the title though, so I'm putting a little twist on it to describe our dog. Without question, in this house, he's the Prince of Blankets. If you look closely, you can see his little black snout sticking out from the edge of the afghan. He's got the afghan that his grandma made for one of the kids, the green blanket that Jan had made some years ago, probably for another one of the kids, he's also laying on a soft, fuzzy acrylic "blang" that covers his double layered dog bed, then I have to cover him with my favorite blanket when I go to bed so that he'll slumber comfortably all night. Then there are a couple of blankets that we covered the couch with so he doesn't tear it up when he's jumping up onto the back to look out. Then of course he needs to rest on the couch after so much serious searching out the window and has to be covered again. It's really rather nauseating. We've become the people that I used to hate; those obnoxious clowns who spoil their pets and have multitudes of pictures of them and speak to them like they're babies. It's just plain pitiful. We had to send him to the vet a few days ago because he had a fatty tumor on one of his dog boobs. He looked like he needed a one cup bra. We put off sending him in, I guess hoping it would go away on it's own., like that would ever really happen. So, much to all of our sorrow, we had to stuff him in a cage and take him to the airport. Of course there was all kind of crying and whining going on... and you should have heard the dog too. I really felt bad for him. The poor little fellow couldn't even have breakfast before he left. You know, when you can't have sex, and you can't eat, life pretty much comes to a standstill when you're a dog. The only thing left to do is sleep, and who the heck can sleep in a crowded kennel? In any event, he made it over and back the same day and we all had a pleasant reunion. As you can imagine though, the operation cost an arm and a leg, and as much as I would like to make him get a job to help out around the house, I guess we'll be hung with the bill. Perhaps we could get his Aunt Jill to teach him how to crochet and he could make me a blanket.